The brothers disappeared into the yawning depths of the basement, leaving Olivia alone. The surrounding dark became an ominous substance, a looming hungry ink barely held at bay by the wavering torchlight.
The faintest scent of machine oil provided some comfort, evoking memories of the workshop, of papa.
Every so often distant mechanical noises rattled overhead.
She had no idea where George was. Didn't even know where she was. She had no plan, but any move at all seemed more attractive than standing still, slowly sinking into her own mind.
She took the torch, a timid firefly in the night.