This suitcase is mocking me.
It's hanging wide open, laughing hysterically at me with its patent leather clown lips.
It's begging me to fill it with pretty sundresses fit for the streets of Paris,
and it sneers when I suggest my paisley swimsuit for the beaches of Italy.
I can hear it saying,
"I know you're not going anywhere, so can you please just put me back in the attic to collect dust before I get my hopes up?"
Fine, I will.
I'll place my dreams right beside you, I believe they'll collect dust nicely as well.
"Fair enough," it said.
Fair enough.