The Restoration Print

On her final night managing the neighborhood cinema, Bea had one job left: screen the buyer's restoration print and certify that every frame was intact. If she signed, the sale would close in the morning. The projector rattled through a comedy no one had seen in sixty years. Halfway through, the actors froze. Bea checked the machine. Film still slipped smoothly between the reels. Onscreen, a woman walked out of the motionless crowd and raised a card toward the camera. BEA, ASK WHY HE WANTS THE BASEMENT. Then the basement alarm began to ring.