Jenine parked in the driveway. She couldn’t wait until Garry cleared out his junk and she could park in the garage again. She stopped three feet from her door, because a suitcase barred her way. It sat on her stoop, dingy, outer fabric worn, without any nametag that she could see.
Scowling at it, Jenine saw one of the clasps was open. Squatting beside it, she undid the other clasp and slipped the suitcase open. With a gasp, she slammed it shut.
Her scowl gone, she opened the suitcase again with wide eyes, this time slowly, as though she expected something to leap out. She looked into the long, dark tunnel inside, skewing off at an oblique angle and glowing with a faint, pulsing red light. She lifted the case, but saw only the dusty concrete of her front step beneath it.
Rooting around inside her purse, she pulled out a tin of mints and dropped one down. Then she dropped the entire tin, watching it fall away into the distance. Tentatively sticking her own hand in, she felt a strange pull as gravity worked on her body at two angles.
Then she thought about Garry’s junk in the garage.