“WHAT DO YOU do, Leonard, when you’re not with us?”

“I don’t know… I walk, I see people.”

“Who?”

“Friends.”

“Who?”

“I have a friend called Louis.”

“Oh, the one who sweats? I’ve seen him.”

“Everyone sweats, Alma.”

“I don’t. Adrien sees people, too, you know.”

“I know.”

“I think he has a girlfriend.”

“That’s good.”

“Why are you sad today?”

“I’m not sad.”

I smiled at her and she looked happy. We continued searching for Bubble. Maybe he’d left the campsite and gone north, toward the beaches with their cool gray pebbles. It was nicer there. I felt a gentle sadness move through me at the thought of never seeing my dog again.

Now I had more hours to get through. The day opened up like a wound. The vacation started over. There would be another night. I could avoid thinking about it, keep walking for a long time with Alma, keep following the paths and searching for Bubble. But the fear would grow. The SNSM, whatever that was, would spread through the campsite. Claire’s eyes and my mother’s eyes would blend into the same unbearable gaze. Nobody slipped away for two nights running. By the second, you had disappeared. You might even be dead, if they found the body, buried in the sand by my own hands. I thought about erosion. I wasn’t sure about the word. Erosion: a breeze comes off the sea, like a whisper in the sand, and reveals Oscar… Oscar’s open eye staring from the sky.

And then, all of a sudden, I felt fine. These hours and hours were a tunnel. I would walk through it with her—with Luce—until morning.