A Suitcase
I’ve been staring at my suitcase now for close to thirty minutes. I pulled it out from my parent’s closet, on the top shelf that I can only reach by standing on my tiptoes. It was buried under three other suitcases that almost toppled onto my head as I yanked the largest looking one from the bunch. The suitcase is large, kind of square, black, tan inside, rather dusty, smells like my parents. But soon it will smell like me.