The Suitcase

The suitcase sat in the center of the room, a hulking shadow against the faint glow of the streetlights streaming through the window. Lina stared at it, her arms folded tightly across her chest. It felt absurd to imagine cramming her life—and Marco’s—into something so small. The thought made her stomach churn, but the ticking clock offered no mercy. Tomorrow, they would leave, and whatever didn’t fit in that suitcase would be left behind.

The apartment felt emptier already. The walls, once covered in Marco’s crayon drawings and family photos, now seemed cold and bare. The space smelled faintly of vanilla and lemon cleaner, the way it always did after she scrubbed away her worries. Only this time, no amount of scrubbing could erase the looming reality.

Across the room, Marco was sprawled on the carpet, humming softly as he built a towering structure out of blocks. Dino, his stuffed dinosaur, sat at his side like a silent sentinel. Marco’s tiny fingers moved with focus and precision, his lips pursed in concentration.

“Mommy, look!” he called, his voice cutting through the oppressive silence.

Lina turned, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. She crouched beside him, her smile strained but sincere. “Wow, baby! That’s so tall. You’re amazing.”

Marco grinned, his gap-toothed smile lighting up his face. “Can I bring my blocks when we go?”

Her breath hitched, but she managed a nod. “Maybe just a few, sweetheart. We’ll need to save room for other things.”

“Okay.” He turned back to his blocks, his trust in her absolute.

Lina stood and walked back to the suitcase, her chest tightening with every step. She began with Marco’s belongings, the task both grounding and heartbreaking. His clothes were first: a small pile of shirts and pants, carefully folded, followed by his warmest jacket and the socks with rocket ships he insisted made him run faster. His favorite blanket, the one with stars, went in next. It smelled faintly of laundry detergent and the faint vanilla scent of Marco’s skin.

Then came his toys. The small bin sat by the wall, filled with treasures that represented hours of play and laughter. She ran her fingers over the plastic dinosaurs, the fire truck with the faded siren, and the puzzle with a few missing pieces. She picked the fire truck—it was his favorite, a constant companion during breakfast and bedtime stories. Finally, she reached for Dino.

Dino was more than a toy. His green fur was worn thin, and one of his button eyes hung loosely by a thread. He had been a gift from Nick when Marco was born, and he’d survived every tumble, every spilled drink, every long night when Marco cried himself to sleep. Lina held Dino to her chest for a moment, breathing in the faint scent of Marco’s vanilla shampoo. Then, with a pang of reluctance, she nestled the dinosaur into the suitcase.

Her own belongings came next. She opened the dresser, each drawer feeling heavier than the last. She pulled out a handful of clothes: a few shirts, a sweater, and the jeans she wore almost every day. In the back of the drawer was a scarf her mother had knitted years ago. It was soft and warm, and it smelled faintly of lavender. She folded it carefully and added it to the pile.

On the bookshelf, her gaze lingered on the spines of her favorite novels. Books had always been her escape, a world where her worries melted away. She picked up one—a slim paperback with a tattered cover. Inside, an inscription read: “To Lina, who dreams big and loves bigger. Never stop reaching for the stars.” Her throat tightened as she placed it in the suitcase.

The photo album came last. Lina’s hands trembled as she opened it, flipping through the pages. The pictures seemed to tell a story she no longer recognized. There was her wedding day, her face radiant as Nick kissed her hand. There was Marco’s first birthday, his face smeared with chocolate cake. And then there were quieter moments: Nick reading a book to Marco, Lina laughing with her parents at the park. Each photo felt like a piece of her heart.

She couldn’t take the album—it was too heavy. But she couldn’t bear to leave it behind entirely. With tears streaming down her face, she took out her phone and snapped pictures of each page. It wasn’t perfect, but it was something.

The last item was a small ceramic mug with a chip on the rim. It was one of the few things she’d kept from her first apartment, a cheap find from a thrift store. Nick had always teased her for holding onto it, but to Lina, it wasn’t just a mug. It was a symbol of survival, of getting by with less and making it work. She held it for a moment, feeling the weight of its significance, before reluctantly placing it back on the shelf.

“Mommy, is Dino okay in there?” Marco’s voice broke through her thoughts.

She turned to see him peeking into the suitcase, his small hands gripping the edge.

“Dino’s fine, sweetheart,” she said, kneeling beside him. “He’s ready for the adventure.”

“Good,” Marco said, nodding solemnly. “I’m ready too.”

Lina pulled him into a hug, holding him close as the tears she had been holding back finally spilled over. He hugged her tightly, his tiny arms wrapped around her neck.

That night, Lina lay awake on the couch, staring at the suitcase. It sat by the door, packed and ready, a silent testament to her determination. Tomorrow, they would leave. She didn’t know what the future held—whether they’d find a shelter, a kind stranger, or nothing at all—but she knew one thing: she had Marco.

And for now, that was enough.

The next morning arrived with a bitter chill that seeped through the apartment’s thin walls. Lina sat up on the couch, her back stiff and her mind foggy from a restless night. She glanced at the suitcase by the door, its worn fabric now streaked with the faint light of dawn. Today was the day.

She turned her head toward the small bedroom where Marco still slept, his soft snores barely audible over the hum of the refrigerator. For a moment, she allowed herself to sit still, as though the act of rising would make it all real.

Finally, she stood and moved to the kitchenette. She filled the coffee pot with water and spooned in the last of her instant coffee, watching the dark liquid drip into the pot. The bitter aroma filled the air, masking the damp, metallic scent of the radiator that clinked and groaned sporadically.

Lina poured herself a cup and sipped slowly, cradling the mug in her hands. She looked around the apartment, memorizing every detail: the scratch on the kitchen table where Marco had banged a spoon too hard, the scuff marks on the wall from when Nick tried to assemble Marco’s crib, the dented lampshade that had survived three moves. She wanted to hold onto these fragments, even though she knew she couldn’t take them with her.

When the coffee was gone, she rinsed the mug and placed it in the sink. It was time to wake Marco.

She opened the door to the bedroom gently, the hinges creaking as if protesting. Marco was a small lump under the starry blanket, his hand clutching Dino even in sleep. She sat on the edge of the bed and brushed a strand of dark hair from his forehead.

“Marco,” she said softly, her voice steady despite the knot in her throat. “It’s time to get up, sweetheart.”

His eyelids fluttered open, and he smiled groggily. “Is it adventure day?”

“It is,” she said, forcing a brightness into her tone.

Marco sat up, clutching Dino tightly. Lina helped him get dressed, pulling his rocket-ship socks snug over his tiny feet. “Can I wear my jacket with the pockets?” he asked.

“Of course,” Lina replied, retrieving the jacket from the suitcase. She knew he liked to fill the pockets with treasures he found along the way—pebbles, bottle caps, and sometimes leaves he thought were “special.”

With Marco dressed, they returned to the living room. Lina grabbed a granola bar and handed it to him for breakfast. He sat on the floor to eat, Dino propped beside him.

“Can Dino have a bite?” Marco asked, holding the bar to the dinosaur’s stitched mouth.

Lina smiled. “Only a small one. We don’t want him getting crumbs everywhere.”

Marco giggled, and for a fleeting moment, the apartment felt less heavy.

When the clock struck eight, Lina took a deep breath and zipped up the suitcase. She slipped on her coat and wrapped her mother’s lavender-scented scarf around her neck. Marco’s small hand slipped into hers, his grip warm and trusting.

“Are we ready, Mommy?”

Lina nodded, her voice catching. “We’re ready.”

She opened the door and stepped into the hallway, the sound of their footsteps echoing against the peeling wallpaper and dim lighting. Marco skipped beside her, his excitement unshaken by the reality she carried on her shoulders.

Outside, the air was sharp and biting. Lina adjusted Marco’s scarf and pulled his hood tighter around his face. She hefted the suitcase with one hand, its weight a constant reminder of everything they’d left behind.

The city was already alive with activity. Cars honked in the distance, and a man hurried past them with a coffee cup clutched in his hand. The smell of baking bread from the corner bakery mingled with the sharp tang of car exhaust.

Lina led Marco to the bus stop, her breath visible in the cold air. They stood in silence for a moment, Marco peering into the distance as if trying to spot their “adventure.”

“Mommy, where are we going?” he asked, looking up at her.

She hesitated. She wanted to give him a destination, something concrete to hold onto. But the truth was, she didn’t know. “Somewhere new,” she said finally. “Somewhere we can start fresh.”

Marco nodded, satisfied with her answer.

The bus pulled up, its brakes squealing as it came to a stop. Lina helped Marco climb the steps and found a seat near the back. She set the suitcase at her feet and pulled Marco onto her lap.

As the bus lurched forward, she looked out the window. The apartment building grew smaller and smaller until it disappeared altogether. Lina’s chest tightened, a mix of grief and hope warring within her.

Marco leaned against her, Dino tucked between them. “Mommy, do you think there’ll be trees at our new place?”

Lina kissed the top of his head. “I think there will be lots of trees. And maybe even a park.”

“Can we build a fort there?”

“Yes, baby,” she said, her voice soft. “We’ll build the best fort ever.”

As the bus rumbled through the city, Lina clutched Marco tightly. The suitcase held the remnants of their life, but in her arms, she held the future. Whatever came next, they would face it together.