Abandoned House

The metal cabinet stands open. Its shelves hold dust and the curled remains of a paper lining.

A porch roof hangs over the entrance of the abandoned house. You push past a door swollen by old rain. Boot marks darken the hallway wall at knee height. At the end, a bathroom mirror reflects a thin strip of daylight.

The bathroom door lies flat across the tub. You edge around it to reach a metal cabinet fixed above the basin. Olive paint shows beneath a coat of household white. One corner bears a stenciled medical cross, partly scratched away.

The latch lifts with a dry snap. Inside stand a few small bottles of military medication. Their labels carry batch numbers and tightly printed instructions. You turn one toward the window; the seal around its cap is still unbroken.

You check the remaining bottles and gather those with intact seals. The glass clicks against the cabinet as you lift them out. You wrap them in a spare strip of cloth and pack them together, then pick your way back down the hall.

You remain on the porch. The dark hallway smells of damp plaster.