The cinema had become a mattress shop, but the canopy was the same. Alen stood beneath it with two paper cups of coffee. Fifteen years earlier, he and Nera had agreed to meet there again, wherever life took them. They had been twenty-four, with one camera and the conviction that love could survive any timetable.

Nera arrived in a gray coat. She did not look like the woman on the large posters for her new documentary. She looked tired and a little chilled. She took the coffee, thanked him, and said she had thought he would forget. "I wrote it down," he replied. He did not add where.

In his pocket was an old notebook containing their plan for a film. They had filmed railway workers before a local line closed. Nera had later moved abroad, while Alen stayed to care for his sick father, and their work together ended up in a cardboard box. Their relationship had fallen apart in phone calls that grew shorter and shorter.

Her new film used the same interviews. The same final scene. His name was absent from the credits.

At first, they talked about family and work. Nera described festivals, and Alen told her about the workshop he had opened. There were moments when he wanted to leave the notebook in his pocket. He remembered how she laughed when coffee burned her tongue. She still did it in exactly the same way.

Then he placed the notebook between them. Nera did not ask what it was. She said the producer had not wanted to complicate the rights because they had never put their old agreement in writing. She explained how many years she had spent trying to finish the film and how hard it had been to find funding. Alen listened until he heard the word gratitude.

"I'm not asking you to be grateful. I'm asking not to disappear from something we made together."

Nera set down her cup. In her bag was a ticket for that evening's screening, intended for him. She did not take it out. She asked if she could have a few days. He said she could, but he would not surrender his name for the sake of their memories.

At the next screening, Nera explained the origin of the footage before the film began and announced that the credits would be corrected. Later, they signed an agreement on authorship and payment. Alen did not suggest reviving their relationship, and she did not ask. Still, when they came outside, they looked toward the old cinema together. This time, they made no promise about fifteen years. They arranged coffee for the following Thursday.