The library smells of dust and rain, and Lena is putting books away. She is eleven years old and likes to organise the shelves. As she moves the bottom drawer, something buzzes slightly. It's a thin volume in a cloth cover. On the spine in gold letters: "Atlas of Roads That Are Not There". The cover is as warm as a pocket. A thin tab of silver thread protrudes from the spine. Mr Wolf, the mustachioed librarian, approaches silently. "We're closing now, Lena," he says. "This title is not in the inventory." He reaches for the book, but the compass needle slips out from under the cover. The needle shudders and points to the window. Mr Wolf wrinkles his brow. "We'll put it off tomorrow." The main light goes out, and outside the window the town hall clock strikes thirteen. "Will you turn off the reading room and close the door?" Mr Wolf walks away to get his coat and leaves the key. When she is left alone, Lena opens the atlas at random. The lines on the map swirl like smoke. The letters hover over the page and circle like birds. She hears a whisper: "Go back to page three". He turns the page and sees the plan of the town. There is a market square, a school and a bakery on an avenue of lime trees. There is also a street he does not know. Between two buildings the inscription glows: "Street Between". In the margin someone has added: "Don't look more than a minute". In the middle of the map a trapdoor has been drawn in the floor. Lena looks under her feet and holds her breath. The boards of the library are warming up and drawing a thin frame. A cool sea breeze is blowing from below. She hears footsteps, although there are no stairs. Someone from behind the boards says her name. A salty glow comes from a dark crevice, as from the bottom of the sea. The frame flares and the plank underfoot begins to float....