The suitcase

There is a deafening bang. Bright blue lightning flashes through the night, bringing things out of the darkness for a moment.

A pocket watch, a letter and the withered stem of a rose, its leaves stripped off. They lie defenceless in a box covered with stickers.

The haunting ended as suddenly as it had begun.

I can't explain it, but I can't help grinning. All the tension releases as the twitching at the corners of my mouth turns into hysterical laughter.

Suddenly, the objects in the case fly into the air.

I fall silent.

A moving image appears at the bottom of the case.

It is me. My eyes stare out of my head.

The ego in the suitcase takes a rose from a grave. Then it puts it on top, together with a letter.

Something is wrong.

My suitcase self cries, while her suitcase self is dying.

A thought occurs to me: this is my life ... backwards!

Unsuspectingly, I touch her suitcase-self’s face inside the suitcase. The fabric is soft, but the sweat from my hand makes it damp in seconds. Or is it my tears?

But there is something else.

A magical attraction like I had only felt once before.

Without hesitation, I jump into the suitcase.