She took the case from Léa’s hands. Ran her thumb over the smiling faces of Pierrot and Colombe.

For three levels, Léa played as Pierrot alone. The puzzles became easier, designed for one. Colombe’s ghost followed at a distance, silent, her colours draining. The fog no longer advanced. The lighthouse grew closer.

The early levels were charming. Pierrot could pull levers; Colombe could fit through small gaps. They needed each other to progress. “We are one heart in two bodies,” the opening text read.

She loaded it.

She’d found her mother’s old PlayStation. And inside it, still, the game.