text: Suitcase in hand, you head to the station. It’s a hot day, you can feel the sweat bubble up under your collar. Despite the heat, you feel the rush of cold fear overwhelm you. It’s hot out. You’ll start to stink and people will notice. Not just the occasional whiff of body odor, but something much worse. The smell will conglomerate in people’s noses. They’ll alert others. Not many people are unaware of the smell of rotting flesh. Even though you wrapped the suitcase up tightly with garbage bags to keep the leakage at a minimum, you couldn’t guarantee it would be completely fool-proof. You glance at the normal-looking black case rolling along beside you. Most people’s suitcases contain clothes, toiletries, maybe even the occasional leftover Indian food from lunch. Not yours. You ache remembering how long it took you to fit her inside that small space. So much bending and hacking just to zip it up. Of course, it was much easier when she stopped twitching. You even had to hang parts of her up for a while to let most of the blood drip out. You didn’t want that spilling all over your shoes as you stroll to your seat. People would really start to notice then. You didn’t really want to have to do this, but what else could you do? You only had reservations for 3 nights. Once she finally died, it wasn’t like you could just head downstairs and through the lobby to dispose of her in the dumpster. Maybe if they weren’t so booked up for the week you could’ve had time to melt her in the bathtub with acid. That would’ve been much more relaxing. You could’ve just kicked your feet up and watched reruns on TV while the acid did most of the work. You would’ve had to wash yourself in the sink of course, but that’s a small price to pay for a night gone horribly wrong. See, she wasn’t supposed to die. You always did have a hard time talking to women. All your life they’ve shied away from you, never really wanting much more than the occasional hello. You just wanted some company for the night. You picked her up from the street, promising a wad of money for just one night. She didn’t even have to stay the whole time, just get the fun part out of the way and she could just go. You didn’t think she’d notice the money was fake. What a problem she caused after that. Threatening to call Paul, whoever that was. You guessed it was probably her pimp, but didn’t really care. All you cared about was just staying under the radar, and with all the noise she was making that definitely wasn’t going to happen. One little smack across the head and guess what? You killed her. You didn’t mean to, but maybe you shouldn’t have swung that hard. After all, it was the metal lamp they had sitting on the side table. The only good thing about that night was that the lamp didn’t break so you didn’t have to pay for a new one. So far, so good. At least, no one was staring at you in horror so that had to mean that no one figured you were carrying something other than clothes. Just make it through the train ride and it’s smooth sailing, you thought. As soon as you get back home you can just throw her into a lake or something. The wheels of the suitcase clicked as you walked past throngs of people. It was as if the suitcase was trying to rat you out. Just get to your seat, you thought. Calm down. Were there cameras here? If not, you could just leave the suitcase under a seat when the ride ended. How long would it take for someone to notice? Or better yet, how long would it take before the smell became too strong to ignore? Better not risk it. Just take her everywhere you go. Until you didn’t have to, of course. The seats were that cheap plush material that clearly hadn’t been cleaned since they were first put on. They held your sweat against you, reminding you of how nervous you were. Please don’t let anyone sit near me, you thought. Maybe if you faked being ill. Or said something about your wife being in the restroom. No one would know that you had to pay a woman to be near you, much less convince one to actually marry you. You sat there, eyes blankly staring ahead. How long will it take for the train to start moving? The ride was only a couple of hours long, but in this heat it would be better to get home sooner rather than later. Finally, the train croaked and gave a half-hearted lunge. Thank God. You didn’t even make eye contact with anyone. In fact, you actually made an effort not to do so. You didn’t want anyone thinking you may be friendly and start up a conversation. You could just see the scenario play out in your head. You politely respond and they continue to make conversation, not getting the hint. They move closer and closer until they are sitting beside you. A few inches away from your case. Finally, the heat makes the smell so putrid that the person idiotically sitting right next to it can’t help but notice. You can hear the screams of the passengers. The handcuffs. You screw your eyes shut tightly. That won’t happen, calm down. If only you had a laptop with you, you could make it look like you were working really hard on something. Something for work with a really close deadline. At least, you could say that. You haven’t had a steady job ever, much less a reason to work on a computer. You breathe deeply. No smell yet. Just a couple more hours. The train lulls to a stop. The rustle of the people around you alerts you that you’ve finally arrived home. You feel a lightness in your chest you haven’t felt since before you killed her. You’re so close. Just this one last thing: getting off the train and back under the sun. You let the others drift past you. You won’t draw attention to yourself. When the last few people were packing up, that’s when you made the move. It wasn’t anything exciting, just getting up and walking off. Suitcase in tow. The sun glared upon you as you stepped off. Hurry and get to the car, you thought. You trotted along at a fast pace. Not running, that would be weird. This would seem like you were excited to get home, or maybe ate something disagreeable. You can see your car. Oh, thank God. You throw the suitcase in the back and sit alone for a few minutes. The heat stifles you. You cranked the AC as high as it would go. You catch a few tendrils of her smell. Just enough to remind you that you weren’t done yet. You put your car in reverse and back out. As you head out of the parking lot you ponder over where her final resting place should be. It would easiest just to leave her in the suitcase, after all: it was a pain getting her in there. Just dump her in a lake, you thought. Or maybe even dig a hole somewhere and bury the case. The sun was finally beginning to set. You didn’t want to throw a suitcase into a river in broad daylight, even an amateur knows better. You sit in your car at the bank watching to sun go lower and lower. You feel a pang of guilt at the thought of hiding her forever, you aren’t a completely horrible person. You wonder how many people have accidentally killed someone in their past and just never talk about it. It has to be more than you would think. You start to feel better. Even better was that she was just some random hooker. It wasn’t like you killed a doctor trying to find a cure for cancer, right? The sun was now completely gone. Just a dull overcast in the sky so you could still see without a light. You step out and gather some rocks, trying to find the biggest ones. Once she’s all bones there won’t be anything to keep her anchored at the bottom and she’ll be discovered for sure. You stuff as many in as you can and walk the case along the pier. Fishermen use this dock a lot to fish. You heard somewhere that this was the best place to catch catfish, but you’ve never found out for yourself. With one final look around to make sure you were alone, you shove the case into the water and with a satisfying gulp the river swallowed her up. You stand there for a minute longer to make sure the case didn’t float back up, and once satisfied that you weighed it down enough you head back to the car. With a slight smile, you head home.