Anne Tibbitts writes

 

freewriting short short story

Bob picked up his suitcase and turned toward the train station. His pride wasn't the only thing he had left and he would be damned if it weren't for the green suitcase full of papers and drafts. Maybe the reason I can’t type anything worthwhile that’s new is because this old stuff hasn't been taken care of, he thought to himself. What can I do to turn this whole thing around?

He got on the train and went directly to the lavatory to wipe the blood from his white shirt. Why he had killed his wife was still beyond him but he just knew he could get away with murder. Bob had always felt above and beyond the simple laws that man made. He went by his own laws and they were vastly different than what most people thought. The train jerked to a stop. Suddenly, Bob got scared. They’re after me he panicked out loud and yelled I didn't do it I didn't do it Please it was a mistake.

 The conductor thought Bob’s behavior was strange and thus pointed the police in Bob’s direction. It didn't take long for the detective in charge to see the wiped off  blood smears on Bob’s white shirt. He put the cuffs on Bob right away and dragged him off to the station. Bob cried out “Let me take my suitcase, my green suitcase” but no one cared. The green suitcase sat alone on the curb by where the train had stopped. Inside lay the inner workings of Bob’s mind, his heart, his whole life story.

Later, a janitor came and tossed the lonely, abandoned suitcase into the nearest trash bin.