The Suitcase

I’d forgotten the airport routine, and the turmoil wasn’t helping at all.

“Do both these bags belong to you?” the agent asked again.

I looked back down the line, but I couldn’t see her.

“Uh, this chick asked me to carry that one for her—the big one.”

“A woman? Can you describe her?”

“Uh, young? Black hair? Said her name was Pandora.”

Frowning seriously now, the agent reached for his phone.

“Sorry,” I apologized. “Sorry!” I looked back again, but the chick just wasn’t there. “Look,” I said, appealing to the agent, “look—why don’t we just open it?”