The suitcase will be left on the side of the bus stop, just far enough out that rain will begin to stain the leather. You will not see the man as he leaves, simply the shadow of a raincoat. As you slow down, your shoes wet from rain, you will watch your bus roll away. You will take a seat under the small shading, huddling away from the rain. After a moment, you will notice the suitcase. Your hands will shake as they clasp the handle and pull it away from the rain. The shaking of your hands will knock the fragile lock open, revealing the contents.
Inside will be five item’s, and you will think for a second about how much empty room has been left in the suitcase. Then the picture will attempt to take flight with the wind, and you will be distracted. The photo will be a polaroid, faded with smeared handwriting on the bottom. You will be able to faintly read the words ‘i love you’ in all lowercase beneath the photo. The photo itself will be something you would not wish me to describe, due to its pornographic nature. Needless to say, you will be very pleased that it did not fly into some unwitting civilian’s path.
You will place the now damp photo back into the suitcase, and place the silver pocket knife on top of it to keep it from flying away. The pocket knife itself will be quite rusty, yet functional. You will slice your thumb with it, small drops of blood will blossom around the thin cut. You will of course be surprised by how sharp it is, then remind yourself to get a tetanus shot.
Next to these is a chocolate bar. You will not touch this bar, there is simply no need too. Whatever the first chocolate bar that popped into your mind is, it is very likely that it will be that type of chocolate. However if you did not think of a melted cookies and cream Hershey’s bar, you are incorrect. Instead you will pick up the poetry book. It will be one of those poetry books that lists a poem for each day. Despite the book being damp and old, you will flip to today’s poem. Today’s poem will be the one listed for December 24th. It will be quite appropriately titled December 24th, written by Rose Styron. You will skim it, and find it quite beautiful. However you will soon set the book down, and you will forget the poem entirely.
Finally will be the old coat, which will be far too neatly folded for you to wish to pick up. Instead you will simply read the tag. The tag itself will tell you that the coat is extra large, and was made 20 years ago in 1985. You will appreciate the fabric for a moment, as it will be quite soft and warm.
After this, you will have a moment of humility. You will realize that you have been going through a stranger’s possessions. You will hurriedly close the suitcase and place it where it originally sat, only you will move that placing in your mind so that the suitcase is no longer in the rain. Soon your own bus will arrive, and your cheeks will be red with cold. You won’t look back at the suitcase, and in doing so you won’t notice that it has vanished.