Lena raked her wet hair to the side and rested her forehead against the cold tram window. November evenings spilled over the city like diluted ink, and the lights of the streetlights dripped dripping in dripping streaks onto the pavements. An unfamiliar song from a random playlist sounded quietly in her headphones, perfectly suited to the monotony of driving through Warsaw after eight o'clock classes. Everything seemed the same, and yet Lena felt something intangible that day. Maybe by the slight dissimilarities - the patch of light in the corner of the tram that flicked in a strangely irregular rhythm, or maybe by the slightly warmer voice of the motorman when he wished her a good evening through the loudspeaker. In winter, people locked themselves in. Grey jackets, slipped hoods, slightly frozen faces and gazes hung on anything - but themselves. But Lena had been seeing things for some time that didn't necessarily fit into the everyday image of the city. At first, it was the little things: a shadow that moved behind the backs of her classmates even though no one should be standing there; a snail on the third-floor window sill, eye-tracking her movements during lessons; the light above the kiosk, which dimmed every time Lena passed by, but immediately afterwards shone stronger than usual. Someone might say it was just fatigue or the effects of sitting too long at night at books or a monitor. But Lena was sure it was something more. She didn't admit it to anyone - not even to Kinga, her best friend, who had been trying for two months to convince her not to shut up. That evening, Lena was returning on tram number 9 from a drawing course. She was sitting opposite the window, through which she could see her blurred reflection and flashes of light from the streets. She noticed that someone had stuck a small piece of fluorescent tape on one of the stop windows. "Look left" - said the inscription in pink font. Lena looked around; the other passengers were too absorbed in their own thoughts to notice. She got off at her stop. A chill immediately squeezed her fingers; the air smelled of rain and ozone. By the wall of the school she passed every day, someone had painted a geometric pattern with chalk. Lena stopped, although she usually just sneaked a quick glance here. The pattern was too precise for mere teenage play. It consisted of connected hexagons, and in the middle was a symbol resembling a forked lightning bolt. She took a picture with her phone. At that moment, just inside the wall, she heard a quiet crack. She turned around abruptly. Someone - or something - flashed through the shade of the trees of the school garden. For a moment, Lena saw only a fragment of a silhouette sticking out from behind the wall: a light jacket and dark, loose hair. A girl who looked familiar but was too far away to recognise. Lena felt a shudder, but didn't move from her spot. She had the feeling that someone was watching her - not for the wrong reasons, rather with anticipation. The world around went silent for a moment, the sky was cut by a light - unrecognisable, too fast for a plane, too bright for a drone. Lena took a step towards the wall, trying to look into the school garden, when a light flashed and she heard a voice. Familiar, but different, deeper, as if she was dreaming of her childhood: - If you want to see, you have to believe. She closed her eyes, feeling a pulsation under her eyelids. In that moment, something happened right next door, changing her ordinary world forever....