"Last month, I finally decided that it was time to clear this room out. It's been 10 years, after all. Of course, I didn't know what half the stuff was. Mostly it was bits of stuff that she put in circuits, or bolts to hold things together. I took the best of it down to the car boot. Most of it I took down the tip."
There was a 'but' coming. And the but clearly involved the large wooden box that stood in the centre of the room, minding its own business in the way that large wooden boxes tend to.
"What is it?" Sam asked.
"It took some digging to find out," Tracey said. "There is nothing about it that gives it away. At first, I thought it was just a wooden box. Admittedly, a large wooden box. A large wooden box with a few buttons and dials in it. But just a wooden box nevertheless, large enough to fit a person in. Possibly two if they are intimate. But no more than that." She handed Sam a book. An A4 notebook. The sort that you would have bought at Staples, when Staples was still a thing. On the front, there was a white sticker. On the white sticker were written in a spidery hand, the words, "The Wooden Box - notes"
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