While Dressing My Late Husband for His Funeral, I Found Coordinates Hidden under His Hairline

I drove by myself to the storage facility the following morning.

When I got out of the car, my hands were solid, but by the time I inserted the key into the lock, they were shaking.

I lifted the door once the lock clicked open.

I drove by myself to the storage facility.

At first, everything appeared strangely normal.

Shelves flanked the sides. On top of them were neatly stacked plastic bins.

In the center of the room stood a folding table. On top of it were a few books and pictures.

Everything was tidy and spotless. Thomas must have visited this place frequently.

I took a plastic container from one of the shelves and opened it.

And at last I realized why my husband’s skin contained concealed coordinates. It was a safeguard, not merely to make sure he wouldn’t lose them.

At first, everything appeared strangely normal.

A child’s drawings filled the box. I took one out.

A father and a young girl were depicted. It was written in crayon at the bottom:

To my father. See you on Thursday.

Thursday. Thomas had been working late on Thursdays every week for as long as I could remember. He had informed me he was doing that, at least.

Another box was opened by me. There was a ledger within.