Abandoned Caravan

The bench stands open. Dust lies in the shallow space where the papers were.

An abandoned caravan sits across two faded parking spaces outside a row of shops. Its tires have flattened into the asphalt. A shopping cart rests against the hitch, wheels tangled with dry grass. You pull the door until its swollen frame gives.

The little table has torn free of the wall. You step over it, ducking beneath a cupboard that hangs from one hinge. Under a bench, a rigid document case is wedged against the wheel arch. Its catches still close tight.

You lift the case onto the bench and open it. Inside lies a set of armor blueprints, folded along soft white creases. Measurements crowd the margins. Separate sheets show how to cut the panels and join them without leaving the wearer unable to bend.

You spread the sheets carefully. All the numbered pages are there, their ink still sharp beneath a film of dust. You fold them along the old creases and slip them into your pack before stepping back into the parking lot.

A loose strip of awning taps against the caravan. You stay outside.