He knew the search was likely to be futile and yet Krichevskoy was there amongst the ruins of the city, searching through what used to be the condominiums for scraps of memories. He had passed by the area many times before, not entirely managing to convince himself each time that looking would be a waste. This time he had given in.

Even if it was all fake, created by someone else's memories, that place had been important to him--to both of them. If he could find just one thing to remember it by, then perhaps that would be enough. Maybe if he held on tight enough, it wouldn't disappear. His efforts might be futile, but still he had to try.

Krichevskoy heard a noise from behind him, stood, and turned. "Who's there?"