Creative Writing: From Stranger to Stranger

785 Words4 Pages
From Stranger to Stranger Late. I was late, very late. My flight was at 9:30, and it was 9:15, and I have not left my house yet. I frantically threw everything into my car, not caring much about the content, and drove away as quickly as I could. I arrived at the airport at 9:25, only to find out my flight had been delayed and pushed to 11:00. So, to pass the time I tried to organize my bags a bit more. I was always the type of person to freak out before trips. I always manage to buy just about everything that says, “Travel Sized” or, “Convenient for travel!” on them. In my mind, you can never be too prepared, because you never know what is coming. As I was trying to organize, someone’s child came by me, and knocked my bag off of my lap. What astounded me even more, was that the child’s parent did not even seem to care. Frustrated, I began to pick up my belongings and shove them back into my bag. Suddenly, I noticed a stranger helping me collect my stuff. “Kids, huh?” he asked me. “Yeah.” I mumbled back, I have never been too great with small talk, and tend to have sort of an awkward disposition. After everything was back in my bag he asked, “So, where you headed?”. “Um, Vancouver. W-What about you?” for some reason his eyes lit up, as if I had just told him I was taking a flight to visit Jesus. “Washington, what are you headed to Vancouver for?” “Visiting family, what are you headed to Washington for?” “Business.” That was weird, he did not look like he was going on a business trip. He looked more like he was going to a music festival. He had two bags with him. One was a tote, and the other was a suitcase. Weird. He looked around sort of nervously, and then leaned in and whispered, “Could you do me ... ... middle of paper ... ...dn’t come? I would be stuck with this suitcase. I don’t even know what is in it, and to be honest, I don’t really want to know. I decided to go walk around, and see if anybody might recognize this stupid suitcase. The more I walked around the more frustrated I got. I was almost ready to leave when a man walked up to me, pointed to the suitcase, and said, “That’s mine.” He was tall and was wearing a suit and a bowler hat. He looked a bit like George Clooney, much more professional looking than the last guy. “Oh, okay. Good, here you go.” I said to him as I handed it over. “Thank you. I sure hope it didn’t give you any trouble.” he stated. “Trouble?” I asked, a bit confused. What kind of trouble could a suitcase give me? What is inside of it? Now I actually wanted to know. “Good day to you…” he then tipped his hat toward me, winked, and walked off.
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