After that day, either the Constable or the big woman would come in the room. Mostly, to serve food and the like. Sometimes, she would hear a knocking on the door and a high-pitched giggle afterward. Sal knew better than to open the door. But sometimes, she would see a trail of maroon skirt behind the constable when he stands by the entrance. That constable, he was more like a servant, not a constable. And it did not feel right.

It was another night when it was the Constable who came inside to leave the tray of food. And like before, she refused any offer of his to peek outside. Just the stairs, he’d say. It’s hot inside, go out and have fun, he’d say. It’s not any different now.

Sitting squat on the floor, Sal sat still as the man complained of the diminishing silverware. She glanced at the space underneath the bed. Half- hoping a glint of steel was visible. The constable went on and on. At the moment, he turned back, Sal whipped out a small, metal fork in front of her.

“ Silly me. Has this always been here? “ The constable scratched his nape.

Sal nodded. She heaved all air she could find within herself. “ I took them.” She watched as the constable let out a small interjection as his face crumpled. “ Without permission. I took property without permission which under the law classifies as-”

“ Stealing, huh!” The constable stood tall in front of the girl. His voice losing that frenetic, excited, tone he had as he spoke slowly. His voice going an octave lower. “ What do we have here? A thief, of course. Tell me, what is the name of this,this, felon?”

She shook her head.

“ Surname?”

She squeezed her hands together, almost forgetting what to say at the man’s question .

“ A man is only as good as his surname. But, if I were to arrest you I need to connect with your hometown’s constables. Tell me, where did you come from?”

Another stutter. More wrangled fingers.

“ You are a strange one. How many did you steal, then?”

“ Between the numbers of five and ten-”

“ Ten years! A silverware stolen is a year in prison. And what is this little kid’s motive here?”

She fiddled with her fingers. And her eyes fell on the floral designs, art noveau, maybe, of the fork.

“ The design. It’s pretty. Art noveau.”

“ Art nobo, huh. Give me your hands.” The constable commanded.

Sal laid out her arms, clasping each other, like how it was like in the stories and illustrations.Closing her eyes, she waited for a rough sensation that would wrap around her wrists. At first, it was a rough hand at her own. Then, something smooth, and round, and a bit rough, like it had small, fine scales.

“ You can have this for dessert. I made sure to pick the ripe one.”

In front of her was this man’s smiling face, a big, toothy grin that was almost boxy. In her hand was a small, brown fruit. She smelled it.

“That’s called a chico. Never had one?”

Sal tried to peel one with her nail, studying the color and texture of the fruit inside.

“ You can eat that with the peel.” The constable said.

Here she was, eating fruit when she should have been taken away. She sniffed it as she gazed at the man when he was not looking. Legs crossed over each other and a certain lightness in the man’s face.

“ When will you arrest me?” Sal took courage to ask.

“ Arrest? Who makes arrests over old pieces of metal? Maybe Lea might, but that’s ridiculous!” He pointed at the fork on the ground. “ But hey, you said, you took ten. Where were they?”

Sal pointed at the bed, and there the man went to retrieve it, crouching down in what the adults might call the most undignified poses as he muttered on about Mom Lea being mad at him. He did not leave immediately this time.

“ Besides, you were in danger. We saved you. How could we arrest you and coop you in prison? You’re more than cooped enough in this place. I bet prisoners are freer than this.”

Indeed, this was a strange constable.

***

The lady was harsher than usual. She barged in, pushing hard at the door despite the heavy chest behind it. She was breathing heavily than usual as she grabbed on the sheets then pulled at each end. Her sigh punctuated by her clasping her head on her hands.

“ Got any tricks up your sleeve?” she asked.

Sal shook her head. That was easily becoming her default answer. These strange people were in affairs far different from her own. Outside, the terracota line was becoming more visible to her. A city. Calare? Sounds of Hooves clopping and carriage wheels clanking become clear at each second.

The lady gasped, “ They were supposed to come tomorrow!” She rushed at the window and slammed them shut. Almost pinching at Sal’s finger in the process. But it seemed like she didn’t notice. For there the lady ran clutching at the doorknob.

“ We’re locked in,”