Maud believes her friend is missing and is determined to crack the case. The problem is she forget things. A lot of things. And you have to wait for her to find, remember or rediscover the pieces of the puzzle, though you may have already put the pieces together yourself.

Frustrating; beautiful.

Forgive me comrade. We always see it too late. Why do they never tell us that you are just poor devils like us, that your mothers are just as anxious as ours, and that we have the same fear of death, and the same dying, and the same agony — Forgive me, comrade; how could you be my enemy?