One by one, the lampposts blinked into life.

Candles were lit on windowsills to keep the shadows out, and the stars woke up, each one, and the nightlights were put on, and flashlights went on beneath the bedcovers, and my reason for telling you these things is that despite all that light, Swain had never known a night to be so dark.

He could think only of Verow’s skin. The emptiness of the memory made him feel like he had fallen asleep.

For hours he stood still, staring at the sagging building across the street, which was the home of Verow and Mrs. Gordon, even though he had not received an invitation.

He needed Mrs. Gordon’s button.

It was midnight, perhaps later (the night was all one dreadfully long hour to him), when finally Swain went to the door, and he reached for the knocker.

“Don’t try it!” a voice hissed. It came from somewhere up above.

It was Verow Drange, leaning out of the topmost window, but you could hardly see her because she was not wearing her disguise.

“It’s not safe! Mrs. Gordon might come down,” Verow said. “She’s still awake now, and she’s extremely angry. She’s just lying in the dark with her eyes wide open. She isn’t blinking.”

It was all true, and we could peek into Mrs. Gordon’s room

to see her eyes red and bulging, about to burst out from their sockets, and still she clenched that umbrella of hers with such force that the wood was beginning to splinter in her hands.

“You’re lucky,” said Verow. “If she hadn’t been so distracted with hiding me before, she would’ve gone back for you. Now, stand away from the window, will you? And I don’t want any trouble, I mean it.”

She let a single white ribbon down from the window. You wouldn’t think that this would be strong enough to hold a person, but most of Verow’s weight had gone with her color, and the night was so dark that her skin blended right in. When she slid down it looked like a single shiver went running through the ribbon.

“There,” said Verow. “Are you going to tell me why you jumped out at me and Mrs. Gordon?”

“That’s why I’m here. I followed you home because I need your help with something. It’s important,” said Swain.

He leaned in towards Verow. “Listen closely: This is a story about lost things and the place

where they end up.”

Then Swain went about telling

Verow all the things which I have already told you, about the world of lost things and the clues to finding the doorway.

“Always call it THE DOORWAY,” Swain said. “Because it’s not an ordinary doorway” (listen to the curious way he says it and never pronounce it another way again, for we want to tell the story correctly).

At first Verow did not believe it, as maybe you did not; but you believe now, and in time she too could imagine the strange place where lost things go. There was something in the way the boy spoke about it all that made her believe him, and there was such a look in his eyes that you could not have denied him yourself, had he told it to you.

Meanwhile Mrs. Gordon sat

up in bed. She had been grinding her teeth and had worn them too short to carry on with it, so her head was much quieter. There were voices drifting in through the window.

“You think the doorway -” “THE DOORWAY.”

“Oh fine, THE DOORWAY then –

you think it’s in my Grownup’s button?” Verow asked.

“Only part of it,” Swain said, “but I’ll have to explain that later. Right now there isn’t much time. I need you to help me get inside, and steal that button. We have to hurry.”

“And why should I?” Verow asked. She was well mannered and had never stolen.

“Because if you help me,” Swain said, “then I can use the button to get into the world of lost things. Then I can help you to find your lost color.”

Poor Verow! She could not have refused the tricky bargain! She wanted her color more than she had ever wanted anything before, and she was like us, and did not much enjoy the feeling of wanting.

“Do you really think we’ll find my color there?” she asked.

“It’s where all lost things go,” said Swain. “It has to be there.”

“I’ll help you,” said Verow at last. “But you’d better not make a sound while we’re inside, or else there’ll be trouble for both of us.”

Without another word the girl climbed back through her window, pulling the ribbon up behind her, and then she rushed to put on her disguise (she would be of little help to Swain if he could not see her).

Only a few moments later there was a click at the front door as it swung open. But when Swain stepped into the blackness of the room beyond, it was not Verow he found waiting for him.

The lock clicked again behind him.

Topher Daniel can be reached at [email protected]