In the back corner of a café three cities away, a man sat at a table with no name and no past. The server didn’t remember him arriving. The camera above the counter blinked once then cut out for twelve seconds.

On the napkin in front of him sat a single object:

A pendant.

Dark wood. Carved by hand. The shape of a bird.

As he reached for it, a stranger passed behind him on the sidewalk. Paused. Watched.

Then kept walking.