A suitcase rests on wet sand, small and silent. There are no footprints.
At dawn in Lisbon, a ferry worker hauls a brine-soaked bag from the surf. Salt stings the air, gulls cry, and a zipper snags on a passport from a nation two borders away. Tucked inside is a postcard, its message cut off mid-sentence. Minutes later, an untraceable call reaches a port office in Tangier, a calm voice recitin...
