I stood there with the lamp for a long time. The cupboard didn't make another sound. And then I remembered what my grandfather used to say.

Ku-KlipElla, my girl. That isn't yours.

Ella……Okay, cupboard. I won't touch you. …Yes, Grandfather. I understand.

At dawn I went back. The latch hadn't moved. But dust had been pushed out through the crack under the door, from the inside. A chill ran down my back, and I took a step away.

EllaYou… you moved in there, didn't you. …Is anyone there? …Grandfather put that latch on you. You're not mine to open. …I'll be back after work. I'll think of you all day. Then I'll ask again.

I opened the kitchen door. Just outside, on the stone step we call the doorstone, lay the axe. And folded on top of it was the oiled cloth I'd given him yesterday.

He was standing exactly…