Story #1:

*Didi means “older sister” in Hindi

I slowly tape the cardboard box. ‘Samara’s Box DO NOT TOUCH’ was written on it with a fat red Sharpie. My room looked so bare. Empty closet, no bed. Just 4 mint green walls with a space of nothing.

“Samara bring your box we need to load it!” Dad hollers from the garage.

I look out my window for the last time. The side yard smelled like pinecones. Not the Christmas kind. The kind that you throw at your friends when tag gets too boring. The kind that you sit with under a palm tree and slowly pick out scales. I pick up the box and walk out the door, slowly letting go of the dirty gold doorknob. 

“Samaraaaaaaa! Let’s gooo! Also tell Arpitaaa!” Mom hollered. 

“Cominnngg!” I holler back. 

I walk to Didi’s door and put my hand up to knock, but before I can touch the door, Didi pops her head out of her door. 

“Our flight isn’t until 12.” she groans as she looks at her watch. “It’s 6.”

She rolled her eyes to the point where I thought she was possessed.

“You know how it goes. Why do you bother questioning it?” I chuckle.

I look in my room one more time before I leave the hallway. You never really notice how clutter makes such a noise until you see an empty room.