The surface of the trunk was warm beneath Sarah’s hand and felt like sandpaper where windblown dirt had settled. Her touch left a wide arc and she could still make out
some of the faded black letters she’d painted there,
RAG E – H NDL ITH CA .
A laugh rippled as she remembered the months of travelling with the trunk. In all that time she’d only opened it once.
When it is done, the voice had said to her, seal it up good and tight. Find a place with water, where no-one will look, and disappear. She had complied, but not even the voice could have anticipated the drought.