She stood on the open observatory deck. The one hundred and first floor, utterly shrouded in a warm, wet blanket of cloud. There was nothing to see apart from a diffuse glow of indigo light from the tower’s liberty lamp, which showed a different colour each night.

The man had not appeared. It was a quarter past six. He said he would meet her here. Perhaps he was simply delayed. Was it the wrong day or the wrong time, she wondered? No, this was the time and place. She was certain. The man said Taipai 101, Observation deck 101F at 18:00 Saturday. She could not have got this wrong.

The wind suddenly cleared the cloud and the vista of Taipai appeared like a sparkling, patterned carpet stretching in every direction. She looked from right to left along the observation deck but there was no one. She clutched the railings and studied the lights of the city below her. The view was spectacular. She was so anxious she could hardly breath.

As quickly as it disappeared, the cloud suddenly returned. The view was extinguished and the indigo glow returned. She felt the wetness of the cloud on her eyelashes. She had met the man whilst shopping for groceries on her way home from work. She was standing by the wine shelves and the man stood next to her. He said he had information about her son.

She’d heard this same thing from other strangers in the past and been cruelly disappointed many times before. She paid out a great deal of money over the years for information but all for nothing. Her son disappeared when he was eight. He would be 16 now. She was desperately hopeful. She was terribly sure also that she would be disappointed again.

The man appeared out of the swirling fog. He was standing right next to her.

“Give me two hundred thousand Taiwan dollar and your son will be returned to you.”

“That’s a lot of money, how do I know that I can trust you?” she asked. She’d been here many times before.

“You don’t,” he said, “but here is something that should give you confidence.” He held out a small green toy monkey. Her son had one just like it when he disappeared. She took it from him.

“How do I know this is his?” she asked, it existence was widely reported in the press.

“Smell it,” he said.

She held it to her nose and burst into tears. The unmistakable smells of her lost child sparked a deluge of remembering. She could feel her heart pounding, her heart bursting. All of her hopes, all of her dreams in the smell of her boy. She hardly dare speak.

“I will give you the money,” she said.

“Then you will see your son,” he said, “come to this place when the clouds are next lit green by the lamp. Bring the money.”

Thursday, she thought.