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From The Archives: F/25852/YA

The bead ran a ragged pattern across the sheet, then spelt L, U, I with individual letters.

‘“Lui”? “Him”?’ He frowned. Him and you, the same person? Couldn’t be, since he wasn’t dead. Unless… unless this had nothing to do with him.

He scanned the writing on the sheet again. All words, all phrases were either written in first person, or in the formal second person. Je, moi, mon, vous, votre, etc. But there was no reference to a third person, or to anyone who was not part of the conversation.

Yet the bead was trying to refer to someone other than him or the ghost moving the bead. A third person.

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From The Archives: F/41923/SM

Other noises surfaced between the static, sometimes soft, sometimes louder. He tried to concentrate on possible words, but his mind refused. Twice he rewound the tape to listen again, but to no avail. All he heard were inarticulate sighs and whispers. Sometimes his filters hadn’t removed his own groans and snores, but these whispers were different. More frantic, going on and on.

Second cassette; same noise. Same whispers.

‘…me…’

Martin sat bolt upright. Did he just—?