Suitcase

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By k.amoh

He liked cleaning. Anything that reduced entropy and forced order on the world was good.

He avoided the corner farthest from the door because that’s where the suitcase was, and whenever he got too close he heard the rattle of his father’s bones, promising that the trip would be the greatest trip ever. He hadn’t kept that promise. It didn’t matter that he’d died two years ago in a car crash days before the trip. He’d had a chance to make up for every prior broken promise, and hadn’t.

He made sure to avoid the corner farthest from the door.

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