Maja was fourteen and after school she helped out in her grandmother's antique shop. The shop stood on the corner of Lazarus and smelled of dust and brewed tea with jasmine. Since the May storm, Maja had heard things she shouldn't be able to say. First the keys whispered, then the kettle screamed, and finally the mirror rang out. She didn't tell anyone about it because she liked to keep secrets between the shelves. That afternoon, the closing drawers clicked nervously, as if they were practising Morse code. The cuckoo clock was counting backwards and the metronome was nudging impatiently under the glass. - He's late - rang the buzzer of an old alarm clock that no one had set for years. - Who? - Maja asked, pulling open the chairs that always greeted her with a sigh. - 'The collector,' replied the pocket mirror, scratched like a map of old rivers. - It collects us when we are silent, then turns us into trophies and itself into a shadow. Maja smiled uncertainly as it sounded like a very successful joke. Then the neon letter in the sign began to flash, although the plug lay on the floor. The bell above the door sounded on its own, and two odd rolls vibrated against the wall. A leather folder slid out its strap and pulled Maja towards the back, as if pointing the way. Behind the curtain, a metronome clattered quietly, though its pendulum rested motionless. On the desk stood a box marked Four Voices, closed with an intricate latch. - 'Open us before he opens the silence,' a pen beeped, pointing to a black key. A camera groaned in the corner and an undeveloped frame came out of the drum. The picture was of a shop window, but the glass bore a fresh scratch in a half-moon. - 'That's his sign,' buzzed a metal bookmark, suspended from a lamp cord. The clock began to count back louder, and the cuckoo retreated into the dark flap. Maja slid the key into the lock of the box as something clattered outside. The front door slowly pressed open, and the metronome jerked the invisible pendulum once. A faceless silhouette flashed in the window, folded like origami from shadow. The box latch lifted on its own, and all the objects took in air at once.