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Floorboards by Abbey Lape

It was a mustard colored suitcase. The leather was worn, faded and cracked along the corners. Hot tears formed in her eyes as she took the last photos off the wall and neatly placed them in with the rest of the knickknacks from around the room. She tugged the zipper, careful not to catch anything as she closed the suitcase.

“Ellie!” a voice yelled up the steps “Are you ready?” 

Ellie stood and dusted off her jeans, placing her hands on her hips. She surveyed the room. There were bright yellow squares where photographs hung, hiding the paint from years of sunlight. She spotted the loose floorboard where an old cedar box used to hide, holding the most secretive possessions. 

Her hand automatically went to her front right pocket; she outlined the thin piece of paper. Her insides danced, her heart fluttered, remembering the days so long ago. She knew the words on the paper by heart.

I promise to dream of you every night,

from this day until all days have ended.

- M

She was miles away when she was jolted back to the empty room by a strong hand on the small of her back. 

“Ellie?” James said, placing a kiss on her cheek, “it’s time to go, the movers just put the last of the things in the truck.”

Abbey Lape is a senior at Robert Morris University in Pittsburgh, PA. Orginally from Central Ohio, Abbey has been writing all sorts of creative writing pieces since the day she could hold a pen.