She found the photograph on a Wednesday morning, and the way she found it was so ordinary that she almost missed the significance of what she was holding.
The morning had started without event. She had worked from seven until noon on a new commission, a series of editorial illustrations for a small publishing house. She had eaten lunch at the desk in her study and then moved to the main room in the early afternoon, because the light from the east-facing windows was good at that hour and her study caught none of it. She had her sketchbook and three pencils and she was working through a composition loosely, the kind of open-handed drawing she did when she wanted to think without directing the thinking.
She was not looking for anything. She was not even particularly alert. She was simply si
