Purest Fiction: Just My Life No Wheels

The author blinked watering eyes as a woman’s voice rose up the stairwell.
“Ed, that weird woman left a huge suitcase under the table. What should I do with it? Mayor Perkins wants his usual seat.”
“She’s still here, Mavis. She’s going to rent the apartment.” He took three steps down the stairs, and looked back over his shoulder. “Mavis can handle the clearing away for the afternoon’s coffee drinkers, but you should be ready for duty at 4:30.”
“There are aprons in the kitchen. Because it’s urgent, I’ll bring your suitcase to the foot of the stairs. Don’t forget, use the backdoor.”
She nodded.
“Thank you very much, Mr.…” The author’s voice trailed off, and he supplied the answer.
“O’ Connor, Ed O’ Connor.” His feet rumbled on the bare wooden treads, and he returned, muttering under his breath. “Walks in off the street, suitcase the size of a compact car… Good Lord, what’s the woman got in here, rocks?”
“No, Mr. O’Connor, just my life… no wheels.” And if her life were a manuscript, it’d be rejected for implausibility. “It would be much easier if the wheels were still on it. Do you know someone who could repair them?” She hurried down as quickly as the unfamiliar steps would allow.
“Try Ron, at the hardware shop.”
He set the suitcase down and she pulled out the extending handle. The man waited as she tipped the suitcase against the stair treads and climbed, pulling the luggage as she went. It slid up with relative ease and he turned away.

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Purest Fiction is a short story with twelve parts. Stay tuned for Purest Fiction: Her Newest Refuge.
Read more of my published short stories here.