He finds Clara in the kitchen, head buried in a thick book and the air smelling of baking flour and eggs. She glances up at the sound of his footsteps, giving him a quick smile before returning her attention to the book in front of her.
“People fall out of the world sometimes. But they always leave traces. Little things we can’t quite account for. Faces in photographs, luggage, half eaten meals, rings. Nothing is ever forgotten, not completely. And if something can be remembered, it can come back.”