Mystery
Atlanta prevents me from even sitting before the computer or the videogame console, once we are back at her house.
But then again, I am feeling too jittery to sit down for prolonged lengths of time anywhere, presently. I never expected that “coffee” could affect me this way. Not even the strongest drink in Asgard managed to affect me thus!
Fortunately, perhaps noticing my current state, Atlanta ushers me out of her chamber, and we… comb through… her adoptive mother’s.
Quite like a pair of pillagers. Or spies. Or thieves.
And, “Can you detect hidden places?” she asks through her phone.
`Yes. Thieves.`
Resignedly, I sign her a “Yes.”
And, predictably, she implores me to do so.
I give her my best stern look, but she does not budge.
`Very well. This favour will repay her the rest of the way, at least. I can always claim such if her mother ever asks.`
Atlanta jitters as much as I am, when I discover a cubical hidden in the wall behind the headboard of her adoptive mother’s bed.
And then she unearths a pile of photographs and small paintings from it, and, “Wow! Look! This person looks very much like you!”