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A case at liberty
Jaya had packed for two women. The suitcase had apparently packed for itself. On the bright seaside platform at Bellwether Bay, a wholly fictional town with an unreasonable number of bunting committees, it stepped out of her hand on two little brass feet. Three blank pink tickets fanned from its turquoise lid. Behind it, a red tram waited with the expression of a vehicle that had seen this sort of thing before.
At sixty-seven, Jaya, a South Asian woman, had a silver bob, round glasses and a lively conviction that most situations improved when she asked one more question. She straightened her coral cardigan and teal scarf. "Where exactly are you taking my trousers?" Mina, her sixty-five-year-old friend, leaned down in her mustard travel coat. Sunlight caught her dark skin and close gray curls. "Perhaps somewhere they can finally relax." They had planned an afternoon watching the bay's floating theatre. Neither had planned to be abandoned by her luggage.
The vintage case shuffled toward a sign for Unburden House. When Jaya followed, it stopped and offered its handle, then abruptly withdrew it. Mina pointed at the pink tickets. "An invitation, possibly. Or a very small resignation." Conductor Ollo approached carrying a ticket punch shaped like a pear. His waistcoat had seventeen pockets, all visibly empty. He bowed to the suitcase first. Jaya decided she would remember that.