Short time no see

Alex boarded the subway, the train rumbling back towards Manhattan. Leaning against a corner of the carriage, he stared down at the note in his hand, Scarlett's sneer and the rune-stone lingering in his thoughts. He murmured, "What can these things... change?" He sensed a delicate equilibrium—the threat of the uncanny and the Society's means of survival, as if it were some harbinger of cataclysm.

The train arrived at its station; he exited and walked back to his dorm. Night was falling, the streetlights of Broadway casting a dim yellow glow, and pedestrians were sparse. He passed a convenience store, its glass door plastered with faded promotional posters. A cursory glance caused him to halt—a familiar figure stood behind the counter, wearing a red jacket, short hair disheveled, none other than Lena from the first chapter.

Her complexion was pallid, dark circles heavy beneath her eyes, and she was arranging the shelves with sluggish movements, as if sleep-deprived. Alex paused, muttering, "She's here?" He recalled the Other Side that night, her cries and the lingering terror of escaping with her life. He pushed open the door, the chime ringing softly, and Lena looked up, her gaze meeting his.

"Alex?" Her voice trembled slightly, laced with surprise. "What are you doing here?" He approached, whispering, "Lena, long time no see."

Alex stood before the convenience store counter, the dim yellow light reflecting off Lena's pale face, her red jacket hanging on her like an ill-fitting suit of armor. She set down the shelf she was organizing, rubbed her temples, and her voice trembled, "It's good to see you again." The dark circles under her eyes were heavy, as if she hadn't slept in days.

He adjusted his glasses. "I didn't expect to run into you here. How are you?" His tone was even, his gaze on her slightly trembling hands, a flicker of concern in his heart.

Lena smiled wryly, faltering. "Not so good. That place last time... I was sick for days, headaches kept me up." She paused, her gaze drifting to the dark corners of the store: "Now I'm scared when it gets dark, I can't even sleep with the lights off. I always feel like that thing is still waiting for me somewhere."

She continued: "What's even more annoying is that my uncle is moving these days, and our family has to help him pack up. Most of his stuff has been packed, except for the basement. But my mom has hurt her leg recently and can't go down, and my uncle is out of town on a temporary assignment. I'm worried about how to refuse to do it."

"Basement?" An intuition flashed in his mind—that place might not be that simple. After thinking for a while, he said to Lena, "If it's not too far, I can help. I'll go with you after you get off work."

Lena looked up, staring at him in surprise: "Are you sure? It's pretty messy there, maybe a little dirty." She bit her lip, a glimmer of gratitude in her eyes: "But... thank you. I get off at six, can you wait?"

"No problem. I'll wait outside." He turned and walked out of the convenience store, the chime ringing softly, leaving Lena standing behind the counter alone.

Alex leaned against a lamppost outside the convenience store, holding a bottle of water he had just bought, his gaze sweeping over the sparse pedestrians on Broadway, no one knowing what he was thinking now. Night was deepening, the streetlights casting a dim yellow glow, and a faint dampness wafted through the air. He looked down at his watch, six o'clock, just as Lena pushed the door open, changed out of her work clothes, wearing a gray sweater, which, coupled with her dark circles, made her look very haggard.

"Let's go," she said softly, her voice weary, "My uncle's house is near 116th Street, not far, ten minutes away." She led Alex eastward along the street, past several old brownstone buildings, and turned into a narrow residential lane. On both sides of the lane were low-rise terraced houses, the walls peeling, the window frames rusted, and a few dilapidated bicycles parked by the roadside.

They stopped in front of a two-story building, the paint on the porch already cracked, and the house number "214" hanging crookedly. Lena pulled out her key and opened the door, whispering, "My uncle doesn't usually live here, he rented this house, and just decided to move out recently." She pushed open the door, and a faint musty smell wafted out of the house.

The living room was dark, the curtains drawn tightly, the furniture covered with grayish-white dust covers, and a few cardboard boxes were piled in the corner, apparently most of them had been packed. Lena turned on the light, and the dim yellow light shone on the wooden floor, reflecting a thin layer of dust.

She whispered, "I'll just wait here. The basement is behind the kitchen, just go down the stairs. There's not much stuff, mainly some sundries, my uncle said just pack up those things that look valuable or photo albums or something."

Alex nodded: "Okay, call me if you need anything." He walked towards the kitchen. The kitchen was small, with a few empty cans piled on the stove, and dried stains in a broken bowl by the sink. He found the door to the basement—a wooden door, the paint peeling, a sliver of cold wind seeping out of the crack in the door. He twisted the handle, the door shaft creaking, revealing a steep wooden ladder, the steps covered with dust, as if no one had set foot on them for a long time.