Aria
The suitcase was open like a wound.
I stared at it for a second too long, hands hovering above it without moving.
Then I forced myself to breathe.
In.
Out.
But even the air in the room felt wrong.
Too clean, too cold, too controlled.
Everything here was too controlled.
I grabbed a dress and folded it quickly, almost aggressively, like if I moved fast enough my chest wouldn’t feel tight anymore.
It didn’t work.
It never worked.
Fabric slipped through my fingers slightly as I shoved it into the suitcase.
Another one.
Then another.
Too slow.
Not fast enough.
My heartbeat was already uneven, like it didn’t belong inside my body anymore.
Outside, the rain was louder than before.
It wasn’t soft anymore.
It was hitting the glass like it was angry.
Like it knew something
