Page 58 of Marc

An idea pops into my head. “How about I pack you a bag and we deal with this tomorrow?”

She nods her head without glancing away from the picture of her sister.

I make my way down the hallway, peeking into the rooms as I walk past them. Papers, towels, pictures are all thrown around like a tornado flew through her house.

A tornado named Jared.

At the end of the hallway is the master bedroom. Like the other rooms, her stuff is ripped and thrown all over the place.

Her covers are hanging off her bed in shreds and the stuffing from her pillows covers the carpet surrounding her bed.

It’s going to take hours to go through everything and clean up the mess, but she shouldn’t do it while she’s this upset.

Heading into her closet, I find a suitcase sitting on the floor under a row of shirts that are still hanging up.

Opening it up, I laugh as I open it up and see there is a smaller suitcase inside. It’s like those dolls where there are several smaller ones inside larger ones.

Staci’s voice sounds from the bedroom. “They aren’t Matryoshka dolls.”

Turning around to look at her, I ask, “Huh?”

Her small smile is a welcoming sight, but her tear-stained face breaks my heart.

“You know Russian nesting dolls.”

I’ve never heard of them by their official name.

“Yeah, I was just thinking that.”

“Well, there’s only two suitcases, so you won’t find more.”

My expression changes to a more playful, less serious one.

“Damn, I was hoping you would have an entire stack of them.”

I laugh, hoping to bring her mood up. She joins in and grabs the smaller suitcase from me.

“I’ll help pack some of my stuff. I’ll start with the bathroom.”

“Okay, sounds good.”

Maybe having a movie night filled with junk food will help perk her up a bit. I’ll even let her choose whatever movie she wants.

I watch as she unzips the smaller suitcase and pulls out a small duffle bag.

“Hey! I thought you said there weren't any more.”

“This doesn’t count as a suitcase. This bag is barely big enough for my bathroom stuff.”

“Is there a bag inside that bag?”

I ask, even though I know the chances are slim to none.

Her face blushes as her smile gets bigger.

I grin and yell, “Oh my God! There is, isn’t there?”

She turns away from me and heads towards her bathroom. “I’m not going to answer that ridiculous question.”

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