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“This time I think I should go first. I imagine I’m far less exciting than Noir.” Uncle tries to smile away my disappointment.
“I understand.” I sigh and nod my head. I have so many questions, but this visit isn’t just for me. I sit down on the vinyl chair and clunk my head back into the wall. I feel so hot and drained. Nothing I went through with Soldats, or at the Manor, made me feel as tired as I am now. Somehow, it’s as if the very energy of life is being siphoned from my body.
“Going to get a drink.” Henry grunts as he gets up, and lumbers over to the water fountain.
Mireille sits down next to me and idly flips through a magazine. I stare at her, trying to read her somehow. There’s no sign of her earlier outburst; she might as well be waiting to get her hair done, reading quietly, seeming oblivious to the world around her.
“Why are you staring at me?” she asks calmly.
“Just- you’ve been so…strange. Since the telegram.” I keep my voice low.
“Maybe it’s you who’s been strange- since the picture.” she turns the page. “Did you ever stop to think about that?”
I feel my mouth open, but am unable to reply. I silently watch as Henry returns and sits down. I look past him and see Uncle coming back down the hallway. Eager with anticipation, I jump to my feet. I have so many questions, I’m not sure where to start.
“Our turn already?” Mireille gets up and stretches. “He must be tired.”
“No.” I whisper, looking at Uncle’s face. “He’s dead.”

“More water?” Mireille asks me. The room is still spinning, and I still feel sick to my stomach.
“No…no thanks.” I hold onto my stomach. Uncle is sitting next to me, and I feel him put his hand on my knee, giving me a reassuring squeeze.
“I’m sorry, Kirika.” he sighs. “He died this morning.”
“Well, they did say he might not make it.” Mireille takes the cup and hands it to Henry. “And our visit yesterday may have done him more harm than good.”
“I don’t believe it was the visit from yesterday. I believe it was the visit from this morning.” Uncle removes his hand and leans heavily on his cane as he stands.
“He had another visitor this morning, right before us. His niece.” He turns and looks at us both. “A niece- who wears her hair pulled back and has a small dog.”
Tierney. My stomach twists even more at the thought of her and her needles.
“I’m sure it was over quickly.” Uncle shakes his head. “Come, we have no further business here.”
Mireille holds out her hand, pulling me up. She has a strange look on her face, almost as if she’s amused.
“So- Droger wins again.” She arches an eyebrow. “Impressive.”
And the matchstick man…I shiver, remembering the thin figure in the sun.