4338.212 · July 31, 2018 AD
The Architecture of Absence
Sharon Pafistis sits in her architectural masterpiece on what should have been their anniversary, tracing wedding photographs like archaeology. Thirty-nine hours since Adrian left to meet a client. Two detectives arrive with routine questions. Then Sharon mentions a name—just an ordinary name, a forgettable client—and watches Detective Jenkins stop breathing. Watches colour drain from his face. Watches everything change. Some names don't just answer questions. They detonate them.
Sarah drives Karl to the Pafistis residence in suffocating silence—last night's wreckage hanging between them like smoke. The house is opulent, architectural perfection. Sharon sits surrounded by wedding photographs, tracing twenty years of marriage whilst her husband's been missing for thirty-nine hours.
Karl asks routine questions whilst Sarah wanders, picking up framed memories. Adrian went to meet a client yesterday morning. Never came home.
Karl leans forward: what client?
Sharon's voice carries uncertainty: Luke Smith?
Karl stops breathing. The notebook slides off his knee. Colour drains from his face. The nightmare bleeding into daylight—Gladys disembowelled, Luke's voice whispering "Bye, Karl."
Then Sarah from the dining room: "Shit!"
She bursts back in, phone in hand. Nial Triffett's phone records just arrived. The last call before his disappearance—from Luke Smith. Security footage from Jamie's account withdrawals—not Jamie using the card. Luke Smith.
Four missing people. Jamie Greyson. Kain Jeffries. Nial Triffett. Adrian Pafistis.
All connected to one name.
This isn't coincidence. This isn't separate tragedies.
This is a web.
And they've just stepped into its centre.
