That’s his flower, she thought. The most beautiful flower among all those that stopped him from looking into the inferno.

Afternoon had turned into evening. A last, scattered light still gleamed on the horizon. The distant mountains in the background reminded Teresa of where this incredible tale had begun. The air outside the rehabilitation center was effervescent and carried the early traces of a premature spring. She thought she caught a whiff of dormant buds and took that as a message of hope.

Teresa had always been a little allergic to hope, but then again, she supposed she had to believe in something. So why not believe in something good?

Marini was walking by her side across the car park. It was hard to know what he was thinking. He had seemed upset, perhaps even moved, during their meeting with Andreas, and that had affected Teresa. Somewhere inside him, in that chest of his that was always bursting with a pride she delighted in needling, was a soft heart.

They reached their respective cars and looked at each other, standing face to face without saying a word, like a pair of gunslingers too exhausted to shoot. The same thing seemed to happen at the end of every shift they shared.

She noticed that his face was lined with fatigue. He was probably thinking exactly the same about her.

She wondered if she hadn’t perhaps been unfair on her young colleague recently, burdening him with too many tasks. But perhaps she’d been unfair on herself, too; she was always with him after all, encouraging him, in her own way, to keep going and do the best he could.

Teresa put her hand in her pocket. There was a rustle of candy wrappers.

He looked at her askance, and she thought of what an unlikely pair they made. He had this terrible habit of reproaching her with silence, without even giving her the satisfaction of saying a few choice words to put him in his place.

Teresa opened her mouth to speak, but quickly closed it again. She placed the temples of her glasses between her lips and chewed on them nervously. The streetlights came on. The wind blew a little colder.

“Right,” she said, walking toward her car. “See you tomorrow.”

He waved at her.

“Till tomorrow.”

Teresa opened the car door, then changed her mind, turned around, and threw a sweet at him. He caught it.

“I’m meeting the boys at the pub for a beer,” she said. “If you’re not busy with that librarian tonight . . .”

“I’ll see you there.”

She nodded with a scowl that might have been a smile, biting her tongue to stop herself from pointing out how ridiculous he looked with that smug expression plastered all over his face.

She got into her car. She could see him in her rearview mirror, still standing there and watching her.

What the hell is his name?