The lost and found

Margaret shuffled towards the heavy black doors. Squeak of hinges. Bang shut.
'Madam?' Said a thin raspy voice from behind the counter.
'I've lost this.' She tapped a gnarled finger on the black and white photo of a young woman carrying an umbrella.
He pulled out an engraved pocket watch and watched her response.
She shook her head.
He turned back to the shelves and produced a red silk scarf. She rubbed the material gently between thumb and index, the roughness of her skin catching on the delicate threads.
Shaking her head, mumbling to herself, she stuffed photo into her bag. Squeak of hinges. Bang shut.
'This is the lost property bureau, not some bloody psycho ward.' came a voice from the corner 'Every week, she shows you those old photos. You show her rubbish, she shakes her head, then leaves. Weird.'
'You have no idea who she is, do you?' The old man folded the scarf obsessively 'or was?' He turned to look at the youth, but he had gone.

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