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The last visitor
At six o'clock, Leena turned the museum sign to CLOSED and left the lamps above the model street glowing. Arun was allowed to stay: his aunt was the curator, and tonight he was helping her prepare new display labels. Mrs Bell had come by invitation too. She had retired from volunteering in the archive last winter, but still carried a pencil behind her ear. The old repair shop that housed the museum smelled of polished wood and the toast Leena had made in the staff kitchen.
Arun stopped beside a blue miniature house. Through its broad window he could see a table and one empty chair. Every other house had a label naming its maker. This one said only "M. Vale, 1984." Behind the chair lay a paper too small to read through the glass. Mrs Bell leaned close without touching the case. "There was something about leaving a place," she said. The wall clock clicked. They could begin with the catalogue, or with the fragment she remembered.