I left the old television sitting on its stand.

I was leaving this apartment and my entire old life behind for good.

I carried the heavy bags into the small living room and set them by the front door.

The rusted butter cookie tin was tucked safely into the side pocket of the second bag.

I walked into the kitchen and poured one last glass of tap water from the sink.

I drank it slowly, listening to the familiar sound of traffic out on Grand Avenue.