They were never there
They were looking for a piece of paper. They had been told that it contained the blueprint for a dangerous bomb. They searched the entire house: on top of the cabinets, behind the electrical outlets, underneath the kitchen cabinets, inside the plaster of the walls, even inside the stove. They tore up the wallpaper and the parquet floor, but they found nothing. Where was that piece of paper? And who had told them about it in the first place? Little by little, their memories began to fade. They no longer knew why they were there, or what they had come to the house for. They saw the homeowner for the first time—a rather ordinary, somewhat simple woman. They didn’t know her. They politely left the house. But as soon as they stepped outside, they forgot everything that had happened. The entire incident was erased from their memories. This time, at least, they were lucky. They hadn’t forgotten their jobs or their identities
