"Vidar, this edition of Garden&Life doesn't seem to fit anywhere." Kira lingered in the doorway, holding up the magazine. A grey-haired fellow with black-rimmed glasses watered a bush of pink peonies. "There's only one copy—is that normal?"

"Yeah, it's mine." Vidar waved the kitchen knife around, gesticulating she could put it on the table. Cautiously, she entered, almost on her tiptoes. He scooped the slices of apple into the bowl, crushing the tower of apricot and banana. "You like cinnamon?"

"Me?"

Who else... the dust bunnies in the living room? 

"Yeah, I'm making breakfast," Vidar said.

"Oh, you... you don't have to."

"Nonsense, you went beyond the line of duty yesterday. I might as well return the favour." He shook the cinnamon jar, the lumps sticking to the side crumbled down. "Want some?"

"I have no idea what that is."

"It's a spice."

"What does it taste like?"

"Like... cinnamon." Vidar lifted his shoulders. Though he had seen his bed longer than the previous nights combined, it was too early for complicated questions.

Kira took her phone from her bag and asked, "Google, what does cinnamon taste like?"

A slight ping, then a robotic female voice answered. "Cinnamon is a strong, warming spice that's hot, pungent, and bitter. It..."

"Ew," she muttered under her breath. "I think I'm gonna pass, but thanks for the offer."

"It's sweet," Vidar tried.

"But Google said."

"Google has no tastebuds."

He set the bowl on the table, along with the jar of cinnamon, a bottle of orange juice, and a box of granola he had bought two for one in the gas station supermarket on the Schijnpoort Lane. By the time they had driven back to Antwerp (and this had nothing to do with his supposed grandma driving style) the lights in the big Aldi across the road had been turned three-quarters down.

"Enjoy."

He sat down and picked up the garden magazine. Besides peonies, the magazine dedicated an article to sunflower fertiliser. Vidar snorted. They could keep all their miracle cures; the flowers on his rooftop terrace thrived since he had buried Tigger there. Allfather, he still owed the Steverlynckxs a new cat. He should start jotting things down on those box-shaped papers that came in ridiculously flashy colours—he kept forgetting important things.

"Wow, you remembered I'm vegan," Kira said. There was a hint of emotion in her voice.

"And no coffee."

She nodded. Was that a blush on her cheeks?

While Vidar slurped from the big snowman mug, she took two big spoonfuls of fruit and added some granola. She inspected the jar as though the cinnamon contained poison, yet hesitantly, she sprinkled the ochre gold on a slice of apple and took a bite. 

"It's not pungent or bitter at all," she said, seemingly shocked by the discovery. "Google lied!"

Vidar swallowed the urge to laugh and filled his plate with a mountain of fruit that he buried with a layer of cinnamon. He didn't want her to think he was mocking her. Something about her told him she wasn't used to people being nice to her. If he could be the one to make a difference, then he had done a good job.

A better job than with Viviane.

Who was he kidding? He was a sorry excuse for a god and a more pathetic guardian of the paranormal, fooled by a will o' wisp he didn't believe existed. 

They didn't exist. Or did they, but had he simply forgotten? A memory erased and used for another purpose.

No, Mo hadn't seen her shape in the water, nor heard her voice in the wind. Vidar scratched the back of his neck, an itch that had stayed with him since his transformation. Perhaps, he had all imagined it, a figment of his tired, blurry mind.

But he was a god; he didn't suffer the same ailments as humans.

Vidar buried a yawn in his hand. The brute who had butchered Viviane was still out there, and who knows, it was the same creature that had played games with him last night.

Lange Wapper was his number one suspect. A notorious trickster by night and a water spirit by day, surely a force to reckon with. Not much was known about him, and Vidar couldn't recall ever crossing paths with the shapeshifter. He was rumoured to dwell in the polder of Hoboken, but there had never been any complaints against him, never a reason for Vidar to visit the guy.

Still, he would go there prepared. Time to get his old shoes from the attic.

The hour-hand of the clock crawled towards seven, the minute hand almost pointing north. 

Vidar wolfed down the fruit on his plate. Just a few more minutes of peace before the daily madness started anew.

Kira ate the fruit piece per piece, engrossed in the rapidly moving images on her phone.

"Any news on the missing statue?" he asked, interested in which of Mo's deceptions the police were eager to follow.

"It's quiet, but there are rumours on Tik Tok that the security camera has been tampered with. A masked guy claims to have seen the footage. He says that one moment all is normal, then there's an interruption. White noise, and then a bright light. Suddenly, Antigone is gone—the body put in his stead. It couldn't have taken more than a minute."

"Whoever did it was well-prepared."

"And knew Antigone's story," Kira said.

"Oh?"

"Yeah, the legends never mention the giant was in love, but he was. In his eyes, he kept the river safe from intruders and those with ill intent. He wanted to win her heart that way, but she always turned him down, said he had to do more. One day, he lost his patience. He tossed her into the water. A passing ship couldn't avoid her. The water screw sliced her in half. An unfortunate accident. Shortly after, Brabo challenged him to a duel, but grief had weakened Antigone." She tapped her temples and puffed her cheeks, making a strange sound. "Mind blown, the legend makes sense now. How else could a mortal man have defeated a giant?"

Agility, Vidar thought. He didn't share his theory—Kira's research was too valuable. Whoever had swapped Antigone with Viviane had paid attention to detail; they had taken their time. The location of Viviane's grave might not be as relevant as when she had been dug up. Shame, he hadn't considered that either.

"Yeah, the story was really good. I totally binged it," Kira said, beaming. "Later today, I'm going to talk about it on my Booktok."

Vidar frowned. "What's that beast?"

Kira shot her head back, giggling. "A Booktok is not an animal." Her book shook with laughter. She pounded the table. "It's... it's..." The clock ticked another minute away before she managed to speak without cracking up after every word. "It's a part of Tik Tok where people talk about books and authors. They share theories and swoon over ships..."

"Ships?"

"Relationships," she said, emphasising the last syllable. "Though who knows, someone might swoon over famous boats. The internet is huge... rule thirty-four."

He barely understood what she was saying.

"You should get an account too," she said.

"No, it's not for me." He waved the suggestion away. "Besides, my phone is still bathing in rice."

"Right! Let's check how it's doing."

They still had a minute. Vidar turned to the counter from where he took the open pot. He switched off the antique gooseneck desk lamp, hoping the steep electricity bill was worth keeping it on for more hours than he cared for. 

A slight shock shot up his finger. Damn silver.

To his surprise, the rice looked just as uncooked as it had yesterday, the grains closest to his phone a shade dirtier than the rest. Mostly, the only thing smelled of sewer and burnt plastic.

He handed the pot to Kira.

"Oh." She bit her lip. "That can't be good."

On her first attempt to fish the phone out, the heat of the screen scorched her fingers. She pulled the sleeve of her rainbow sweater over her hand and tried again. After a bit of fiddling, she blew her bangs out of her face. The phone clacked open. A few drops of muddy water leaked out.

"Oh, God. I'm so sorry."

"I can put it back."

"No, it's the mother—it's fried."

"So it's broken?"

"'fraid so." Her gaze hidden behind her thick blue bangs, she played with her fingers. "I turned your phone into an actual plastic brick. If you want to fire me over this, go ahead. I'll leave."

Vidar cocked his head. He had been the clumsy oaf who had dropped his phone in sewer water, not her. The fix hadn't worked, but that wasn't her fault.

She stood up from the chair.

"No, stay. You did nothing wrong."

"But I broke your phone."

"You're a lousy repairer, but I'm the one who gave the old thing a bath. Don't fret about it."

"I shouldn't?" She didn't sound convinced.

"I barely used it." Then he added, "I'm a Boomman."

"A Boomer." She let out a short giggle, hastening to clear the table. "I'll make up for it—I swear."

Shaking his head, but not in the mood to stop her, he went into the shop and opened the door. Rain pattered down on the tiles, which would mean fewer customers and another lousy day. 

He picked up the old newspapers and carried them to the counter. Little over half his stock left. Unless something big happened, people didn't care about owning a physical copy of the news. When he had founded the bookstore all those years ago, he hadn't envisioned a society where paper would vanish. He would give it another decade. Then it was time to return to nature, or whatever was left of Jord's wealth, to become a ranger.

And after that?

Too many possibilities, yet at the same time, not enough. Computers would take over every part of society, chasing him and his secret until he had no place to run to. They would find his paw print through the ages, the man out of place, out of time. The last of a kind he never wanted to be.

Eventually, they would capture him. They would put him in a cage, broadcast his monstrosity for the world to see. Not a Booktok, but a Wolftok. An animal, after all.

Kira exited the kitchen and placed her phone behind the counter. "What can I do?" she asked.

If he couldn't run from the inevitable, perhaps he should embrace modern life. On his own terms, once he had a full grasp of what he was getting into.

"This Booktok, does it cost money?" he asked.

"No, Tik Tok is for free. Actually, some people get paid. Not me, but..."

"Paid why?"

"For promoting stuff and places."

"Like a store?"

Kira nodded. "Yeah, it happens all the time. It's how certain chains got big—people wanna be where the cool kids are."

"Can you make this Tik Tok about the bookshop?"

"I don't know, Vidar. I'm a nobody."

"Not yet, but maybe once you've told Antigone's story. You can film it here, mention the location. And, you know, if things pick up, I can pay your bonus in books."

She rubbed her finger, speaking softly, "Or the occasional breakfast."

He could do that too.

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