He had packed in a hurry.

I did not care about the suits or the watches.

I only cared about the thirteen folders in my hand.

I left the master suite and walked down the hall to my old bedroom.

The room I had slept in before Aaron and I got married.

The bed still had the floral quilt my mother bought in Boston.

The hardwood floor squeaked in the exact spot I remembered near the door.

It was eight o’clock in the evening.