The Duffel Bag
And the day I became homeless
My stuffed duffel bag was the perfect pillow as I lay on the familiar pavement of the road I grew up on. I gazed skyward and took a few deep breaths while the warm night air embraced me and the bag that, as of today, carried my entire estate. I wondered for a moment how long the bag would last before the uncomfortable feeling of pre-defecation snapped me back to Earth’s harsh surface. I wondered when my next chance to shower would be, as a man who I used to serve coffee, crossed the street to avoid being near me.
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More stories from M.A Rector and writers in Fiction and other communities.
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