a suitcase cracked open, clothes spilling out.
A single note was pinned to the top, reading simply, ‘If you want to stay.’
I stood there, frozen, the sun casting long shadows across the grass,
but the chill I felt wasn’t from the morning air.
Something about this deliberate mess unsettled me deeply.
Normally, returning home meant a routine of unpacking, doing laundry, and catching up on small chores.
But today, the scene before me felt like a demand or a warning, quietly aggressive in its silence.
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