A few days ago, I would have stopped to puzzle over his words, to wonder whether he truly felt that way all along and whether it was me who misinterpreted, out of jealousy, their twin-like bond. On day five, I’m happy I haven’t revealed anything I shouldn’t. “Seb, I want to know what happened, too. I will figure this out.”

His eyes dart back and forth between mine, then he crushes me with a bear hug. Conflicting emotions rise in me—relief and aversion—and make me grit my teeth against the impulse to shove him away. I pat his back instead. Words of stumbling reassurance muffle against his shoulder.

“Thank you,” he whispers. “Please excuse me, I—I am not sure what came over me.” His eyes turn red as he stares at a framed handbag on the wall. “Angela and I used to buy groceries together. She loved walking down this street toward Napoleon’s arch.”

“I promise I’ll email you if I find anything useful. Okay? I need to get going now.”

Once he waves goodbye from the storefront, I grab the wide-brimmed black hat I was eyeing and head to the cashier to pay the thirty-six euros. It’s the least I can do since the staff didn’t chuck us from the premises. Added bonus, I’ll own a first line of defense against serial killers: camouflage.

Behind the counter, two teen girls discuss something hilarious, heads tilted back, mouths agape with silent laughter. They stop when I approach, and a mean little voice inside me says they witnessed my reunion.

Outside, a movie theater across the street presents advertisements of recent films—a macro reminder that the world still turns while mine is at a standstill. A group of women passes, and glittery nails fill my vision. Did Angela like glitter, or did she think it was a form of warfare from the way it stuck to everything? Why did I leave Manu’s apartment without doing what I should have—identify the body?

I buy a ticket for the next movie so I can sit in darkness and digest this morning’s events. Angela once received a birthday card whose front was covered in rainbow glitter; she threw it away after opening it. (Definitely, warfare.) Those nails weren’t my sister’s. Was that Emmanuelle’s body, then? When did she go missing, exactly? How could Angela be implicated in Emmanuelle’s disappearance if she herself is missing? An ugly thought surges forward, along with the immediate sting of regret: What if Angela is missing because of her involvement in Emmanuelle’s disappearance?

In the movie, two friends are in love with two sisters, and they scheme to convince the women to accompany them to a destination wedding. When one of the sisters disappears and the heroine turns to her lover for help, the theater stops being a safe place. I get fidgety and leave.