“Calm down.

It is probably just an old phone charger.

Or some plastic tub Jacqueline forgot to pack.

People leave things behind.

That is all this is.” My hand hovered in the air above the mattress.

There is a particular moment, right before you look at a thing you are afraid to look at, when you can still choose not to.

I hovered in that moment for a few seconds, the coffee grinder rattling downstairs, and then I took a breath, braced the mattress up against my shoulder, and looked down into the shadowed slats of the bed frame.

Chapter 6 — The Row of Bags