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valise
I kept the small case near my side as the road bent through its off-season turns. Some days it felt light enough to forget, other days it pressed against my stride as if it had gathered the weight of the week.
I never checked what shifted inside. It was enough that it stayed with me, a kind of steadying presence when the path narrowed or the dusk settled early.
Once, at a long descent, the case seemed larger than before, its corners brushing my knee as though it had grown to match whatever I could not yet speak.
Yet, I carried it forward, letting its shape adjust to whatever the day asked. By evening it rested beside me, still, unchanged,
scoping the next leg of the road.
.
