I bin standing on this corner in Winslow Arizona since she tossed me out. Well…me, a half dozen t-shirts, some ragged jeans…
The wind blew them sideways –not so far as his nasty boxers, but not hard and vertical, like his Gameboy.
She’d smelled Lulabelle on him late last night. He left for work. She began hers. ‘Cept she treated me gently, even cried a little when she put me out here. I’d been his grampa’s suitcase.
And now, Lord! She drives up in her flatbed Ford.
She slows down, stops. I see she’s looking at me…smiling.
© Liz Husebye Hartmann (2018)
Carrot Ranch Prompt (07/26/2018): In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story about what happens next to a stranded suitcase. Go where the prompt leads you, but consider the different perspectives you can take to tell the tale.
My apologies to Jackson Browne and Glenn Frey