It showed rooftops, trees and sky, but there was also a pub in the corner of the photograph, right at the end of the street, its name clearly visible.
I found it in seconds, thanks to Google. The street, like most in this part of the city, was made up of tenements.
They all had a secure main front door with named buzzers on the outside wall, one for each flat inside the building.
This was the right street. Which side should I start with? Even numbers, I decided. He was an even sort of man, not an odd one.
I had a puzzle to solve. I hummed as I worked, and couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt like this—light, sparkly, quick.
I suspected that it might be what happiness felt like.
It was fascinating to see all the different names on the buzzers, and the manner in which they were displayed.
Some were scribbled in Biro on a sticker and placed carelessly over the button.
Others had typed their names in bold uppercase, printed it out and affixed it with three layers of Sellotape.
A few had left their buzzer blank, or failed to replace their name when the elements had made the ink run, rendering it illegible.
I really hoped he wasn’t one of those, but I kept a list of their locations in my notebook, just in case.
If I had eliminated all the legible names without coming across his, I’d have to go back and work my way through the list of blank ones.
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