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He was convinced that the bag was cursed and that he needed to mention it to Masha the next time their paths crossed.

“It's time head home.” The black-haired girl said and slung her bag onto her back. “I have a lot of cleaning to do, and it won't do it itself. You know, you put it off and then bam, there are piles of dishes and a dust everywhere.”

“I'm going home as well,” Hugh said after an imperceptible pause to consider what the black-haired girl had just said. She had spoken as if she were the homeowner, living alone, and not a young girl of about eleven living with her parents. “I have some work to do and, you know, it won't do it itself.”

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