There is a specific kind of dread that comes with the size of a thing.

A single strange bag is a curiosity; you can imagine a dozen innocent explanations for a single strange bag.

But a suitcase, an entire large suitcase, deliberately hidden, deep against the back wall where no casual glance would ever find it, packed until it bulged, that is a scale that seems to demand a serious explanation.

My mind reasoned, in its panicked way, that nobody hides an airline suitcase full of anything under a bed for innocent reasons; the hiding and the quantity together seemed to rule out innocence entirely.

It did not occur to me, because it does not occur to a frightened person, that the most innocent explanation of all, a shy woman with a beloved hobby and a teasing husband, produces exactly the same behavior: the hiding, the quantity, the deep placement against the back wall.