® The Witch and the Beast is the propierty of Kousuke Satake
Suitcase
"Ready, Guideau?"
The creature turned. Behind her, dying sunbeams cast orange rays over her hair. Ashaf secured the coffin to his back and took the case from Misha. It was a rectangular brownish case, rather small for a six-day journey. Guideau caught up with him and followed in silence, her hands in her trouser pockets, taking long strides. She could barely contain the energy she felt at the prospect of finding Angela.
When they reached their hotel room and the bellboy left them alone, Guideau closed the door, barely waiting for the poor young man to leave, and leaned against the door.
"Well, when do we start?"
"My goodness, all in good time," Ashaf replied patiently. "We need to make contact first. Change into something lighter. It'll be hot tonight."
Guideau crossed her arms and headed for the bathroom. Ashaf started to tell her that her clothes were in the suitcase, but she cut him off with a wave of her hand and locked herself in with the suitcase hanging over her back.
Ashaf was making some phone calls when Guideau came out of the bathroom.
"Yes. At the police station? Hmm... Yes, I'll get a map. We will..."
He stopped mid-sentence. He was shocked by the vision before him. His cigarette was dangling from his mouth, forgotten, about to fall to the floor.
"Goodness gracious."
He took a deep breath and put his hand to his forehead.
"I'll call you later," he said absentmindedly to the speaker, hanging up the receiver in the wrong position.
The beast was trying to get her hand out of the sleeve that hung a few centimetres off her fingers, engulfing her whole arm. She had rolled up the other sleeve and a small pile of white fabric was pooled around her elbow. The hem of the thing reached halfway up her thighs. It was clear the shirt wasn't hers, and the beast growled in frustration.
"Guideau. What on earth are you wearing?" Ashaf sighed.
Guideau looked at herself, tilting her head back and forth, then shrugged. The left sleeve swung around and stopped at her waist.
"I found it in the case. You told me to wear something light, didn't you?"
Ashaf chuckled softly before taking a drag on his cigarette. The image of Guideau in an oversized shirt, clearly designed for someone twice her size, was no doubt a difficult vision to forget.
"Well, it's light indeed," he managed to say between chuckles. "But that's mine."
Guideau gave him an annoyed look. She turned and headed for the bathroom to change again. Ashaf put the cigarette in a nearby ashtray and followed her.
"What the hell are you doing?" Guideau glared. A suspicious look crossed her face.
Ashaf raised his palms.
"I'm just helping," he replied. "I'll sort your clothes, is that all right?"
Guideau's expression softened and she allowed him to work. Ashaf looked through the case and pulled out a burgundy shirt, dark trousers and matching boots. He closed the case and took it out of the bathroom with him.
He was crossing the threshold when something hit him in the back. He stopped, slumped his shoulders and grabbed his shirt without turning around.
That night he made a mental note to put their clothes in separate wash bags, not together, for the next trip.
I notice that Ashaf and Guideau travel with only one suitcase.
Ah, I wish I could do the same.