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テキスト版 この話の文字版 — アクセシビリティ、スクリーンリーダー、検索のためのものです。
ページ 1
Page 1. A wide establishing panel of the Tiny Case Agency clubroom — a low wooden desk, a stack of cardboard boxes, a battered corkboard, a small white mini-fridge, a folding metal chair and a square window with warm afternoon light. Momo stands beside the desk in her too-big mustard-yellow trench coat, holding up the frayed end of her dusty-red knit scarf in both tiny sleeve-swallowed hands and staring at it in dismay; the scarf is noticeably shorter and a single strand of red yarn dangles from it down to the floorboards. Ganta sits on the boxes with his pale-blue juice box. Biscuit is curled asleep in an open cardboard box. MOMO: 'My scarf. It is shorter.'
ページ 2
Page 2. A low-angle panel looking up at Momo for maximum tiny drama. She flings her free arm out to point, her too-big coat flaring behind her like a cape, chin lifted, the theory already fully formed well ahead of any evidence. A single strand of red yarn still trails from her frayed scarf to the floor. MOMO: 'A thief. Thread by thread.'
ページ 3
Page 3. A silent still-life panel. Exactly one thin strand of red yarn runs across the clubroom floorboards from one edge of the frame to the other, lit by warm low afternoon light with a few dust motes. Nobody is in frame. The trail simply lies there, waiting to be followed. No dialogue.