Shoving a clutter of tat into that old worn suitcase, I sigh with defeat. Defeat that only I myself am the cause of. Defeat that I cannot seem to avoid. Life was good. Life is good. I belong here yet somehow something always steers me away from the places and people I love. I had finally grown to fit in somewhere like a right shoe being placed with its left. Because this was right. It was so right. Yet within the hour, I would have left. Packed my few belongings into that leather satchel I’ve kept pushed to the back of wardrobe and be gone as if I never was. I thought I would never need that satchel again. Not with how well things seemed to be going.