Short Story by Breena Fain
It was time for her to go now. The car would be arriving soon.
She pulled down the old suitcase wedged in the back of her closet—up and to the left, behind the shoeboxes full of forgotten notes and photos. She never could bring herself to toss them. As she dusted off ol’ blue and zipped it open, she found a postcard wedged in the inner pocket from her travels. She meant to send it to him but never got around to it.
She piles in an old sweater first, smelling his scent on the edge of the collar. It was the only thing she’d let herself hang on to.
Next came the new, delicate dreams she planned to carry forward. Her hopes for a new beginning. Her visions of what she must become. She glanced around at the room, wondering if there was more to carry.
What should she prepare for? What would the weather be like? Would she be warm enough?
And lastly, a note carrying a mantra of something simple, yet one easy to forget. She peels it open, turns around and reads it to the empty room, “Let go.”
After miles on a dirty and bumpy road, she has arrived. He tells her she can leave her suitcase behind now.
“My darling, you need nothing.”
And as she looks down at the valley and backs up at the horizon, everything goes quiet, and she can only hear her breath over the wind buzzing through her ears. She takes one last breath and leaps forward into nothing.
Breena Fain is a writer and poet based in Mexico City.
