A microstory.
I spent the better part of the week bidding farewell to friends and discarding memories of old lovers. How many goodbyes does one have to make in a lifetime? I thought. When they said people come and go, I did not really think I am people.
I scanned the room wistfully for the last time. The place is empty, the same way it had been this time two years prior. My gaze darted at the suitcase that contains my entire life. There’s nothing left for me here. Once more, it’s time to go.
