by Jim Dempsey
The suitcase waits in the hallway under the little oval telephone table that was fixed to the wall in 1973. There was a suitcase under there the year after – their first summer holiday together – and every year after that. One case was enough back then, but a second smaller one joined soon enough, then another, until those small ones became backpacks and stood under the table on their own and one day didn’t return. A few years after that she packed his suitcase and told him to never come back. Now, she thinks, she almost needs a whole suitcase just for her medication. And then she realizes, as she waits for her daughter to arrive with the car, that this is the last time she’ll ever see a suitcase under that little oval table.
Jim Dempsey spends his days dreaming up and writing down foolish notions.