4
Midori stepped off the Megabus and onto the pavement. She rolled her neck and stretched her arms. Her nostrils flared at a foul stench. She cringed when she realized her nose was in the vicinity of her armpits and the smell was coming from there. The shower from the hotel in New York was a long ago memory. She needed another, and soon.
Midori grabbed her small piece of luggage. It was vintage Louis Vuitton—a gift she’d liberated from backstage during her modeling days. The wheel had cracked, so she had to be careful how fast she went. The zipper was worn around the edges from years of over packing. The grip on the handle was loose. But no one ever noticed that the wheel was falling off, or that the sides were bursting at the seams, or that the suitcase was close to falling out of Midor
