The night was sultry and thick with the smell of cherry blossom. Illuminated only by rows of old street lamps, Wiśniowa Street seemed strangely quiet that evening, as if time had stopped here. Marta, Krzysiek and Lena strolled along its pavement without much purpose, trying to prolong their summer meeting. The neglected tenement with number 13 had long attracted their attention, but today the door was slightly ajar. Martha glanced communicatively at her friends and slipped inside without a word. The interior greeted them with dust, the echo of old conversations and the shadow of old chandeliers that swayed from the draught. In one of the rooms, amidst a pile of yellowed books and dusty mirrors, Lena found a small pocket clock. The hands stood still, although the mechanism seemed intact. Curious, Krzysiek pressed the lock spring. Then something unexpected happened. The world around them swirled, as if someone were rewinding a film backwards. For a moment they saw images from decades ago: elegantly dressed ladies, gas lanterns and carriages on the street. When everything quietened down, they were somewhere else. They stood in the same building, but outside the window they could hear the bustle and clatter of horses' hooves on the cobblestones. Figures dressed very differently from them walked along the street, and shop signs looked like they came from illustrations of old books. Lena squeezed her watch, but the hands still did not budge. The three friends moved cautiously towards the exit, trying not to draw attention to themselves. When they reached the door, they heard the thud of heavy boots and someone whispering: "They're not from around here... They found them!" At the same moment, the door of the tenement opened. Waiting on the other side was a figure in a dark cloak, who slowly extended his hand towards them....