<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 150%; line-height: 116%;">Jenny Wallis - Film theater</span></div><br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Note: Object found: Puppeteer's journal - Page 9</span><br/><br/><div style="text-align: justify;">Jenny's head was still pounding in pain, but she felt that she needed to move. She couldn't just stay there for the rest of her life. Getting up slowly, the young woman massaged her forehead for a few minutes. She really wished she could remember something. Anything at all. A face, a name, another memory, long enough to clear something out. But she couldn't. With a tired sigh, Jenny started pacing.<br/><br/>Cleaning here, picking up there, and always paying attention to whatever she could see.<br/><br/>A torn page from what she thought was a notebook caught Jenny's eye. She picked it up and read it slowly.<br/><br/>"I've missed the funeral. 'Grant eternal rest to them, O Lord, and let light perpetually shine upon them. Amen'. Almost suicides. I don't want to see them being buried near Kate."<br/><br/>"Kate... Kate..."<br/><br/>Jenny frowned and tapped her forehead. "This... it just makes sense... I... This name, and this place. I know there has to be something there. Something I can't explain."<br/><br/>The girl sat down, staring at the page. She traced the handwriting with the tip of a finger. "And this handwriting... everything seems so close, yet so... so far from me."<br/><br/>Once again, she looked up at the camera, a puzzled expression. "What does that mean?", she asked, holding the page on her hand. "Is this some sort of sick joke?"</div>