Investigate The Caravan

The storage hatch hangs open beneath the seat. Only scraps of the torn wrapper remain.

A caravan leans against a low garden wall among the suburban ruins. Roofless houses line the street beyond it. The hitch points into an overgrown driveway, too narrow now for anything to pass. You climb through the doorway, lifting your feet over fallen plaster.

Inside, sunlight comes through a split in the roof. The curtains have rotted down to their hems. You press a seat cushion aside and uncover a storage hatch, its recessed handle packed with dirt. It lifts after you scrape the handle clear.

A pack of food cans sits beneath the seat, still held together by a brittle wrapper. You pull it into the light. Most of the printing flakes off against your fingers, but a torn corner exposes clean metal beneath the paper.

You work the pack free of the surrounding rubbish. The cans knock together, heavy enough to make you shift your grip. You settle them low in your bag, close it, and climb back down beside the wall.

You leave the caravan door where it hangs. Dry leaves scrape along the curb.