That damn suitcase. I remember the sticker on it screaming Buenos Aires! in yellow bubble letters. Whenever you opened the closet door that suitcase asked, Do you want to get out of here? And you can't put a question like that to someone again and again without eventually getting, Let's go, I'll go.

The other day I saw a bunch of bikers at a red light, stretching their arms overhead and twisting in the seat of their hogs; and I bet that's what you are doing right now in Argentina, biking through the country like you always said you wanted to do with me.

Sometimes I still sign your last name on receipts, or hitch yours to mine with a hyphen. But what I'm saying is, do not ever try to come back.

Mean it,


- - -

Read CLT's story, "La Liberación de los Candelabros/ The Deliverance of Chandeliers."

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