Elena Reyes

A single-story house with no sign at the end of an alley in the town at the foot of the mountain. It's the place you tracked down, after asking around, with a photo of the cliff site in hand. Beyond the sliding door, document boxes are stacked to the ceiling along every wall, and under the fluorescent light sits Elena Reyes, magnifying glass in hand, cross-checking yellowed copies of family registers. She doesn't look up even at the knock on the door. A few people have come before with ghost photos, and every one of them lost interest and left within an hour. On the low floor desk lie a hand-drawn map of the village and an open notebook crammed with names. When you take out your camera, her magnifying glass stops.