'Hope this letter finds you well, Vetochki. We're doing good, and the wheat fields aren't as noisy as the mines. You should have come with us, haha. But I guess Rhodes Island is treating you well? There's a recent photo of us in the envelope. Who would have thought that these Reunion folks would have cameras?' 'About the watch you mentioned in the last letter, I asked the craftsmen here, but they didn't know the reason either. Oh, the weather hasn't been great and we need to harvest the crops before it rains. Will write again later.' Vetochki picks up the photo. There are miners laughing in it, but Rankin's figure is nowhere to be seen. The pocket watch was from Rankin. Why doesn't he write back himself? Vetochki picks up a pen. 'Uchitel Rankin: The pocket watch that you gave me has stopped working, and I'm not sure why. Could you write back when you have time?' Vetochki looks at the watch, wondering whom it used to belong to. Rankin never said anything about how he came into possession of it. Perhaps it belonged to one of the researchers who died. Both Rankin and herself have cared for the watch like its original owner, leaving not a single mark on it. Vetochki pauses and picks it up again. No, Rankin has left no mark upon it. The reply letter arrived soon, but it was not what she had hoped to read. 'Vetochki, I'm so sorry. I don't even know where to start...' ... Vetochki takes out a piece of paper and tries to write back. She has always been a smooth writer, without even a hint of the stuttering that plagues her speech, but right now the pen feels so heavy she can hardly even hold it. The lines she writes are broken, disconnected, like words stuffed into a corner of her heart. She grabs her own wrist and tries to stop the trembling, to no avail. No! She tosses the pen aside and knocks over her toolbox. She finds a screwdriver and decides to fix the watch herself. She is unfamiliar with precision instruments, and her hands are not as steady as they normally are. The screwdriver leaves a conspicuous mark on the shiny metal shell, breaking the perfection that she and Rankin had maintained. She closes her eyes, but still sees the words in that letter. 'We don't talk about Rankin much anymore, but we haven't forgotten about him.' 'He died on the way to the Ursus-Kazimierz border. We didn't realize you didn't know. I'm so sorry, Vetochki.' ... She touches the mark on the shell with her fingertip, until the feeling no longer brings her fear. She opens her eyes, and finds that it looks like part of a letter. Her hands still trembling, she picks up the screwdriver again, not to repair the watch, but to etch a couple of names upon it.