Packing up a life into cardboard boxes felt like a funeral. It was quiet, dusty, and smelled like the back of a closet.
Three days after graduation, my boarding house room was almost empty. The walls, once covered with Polaroids and posters, were now bare. The white paint looked dull, revealing scratches that had been hidden behind my furniture for years. It looked like no one had ever lived here.
I sat on the floor, legs crossed, surrounded by five large brown boxes. Box 1: Office wear for Surabaya. Professional clothes for the office. Box 2: Books and sketchbooks I hadn't touched in years. Box 3: Shoes. Including the white Stride sneakers from Dave, sitting on top of everything else. Box 4: Trash.
Box 4 was the fullest. Everything I wanted to forget.
I picked up a dried, blackened ro
