A Little Letter to Tuck Into a Suitcase

This reading imagines a note left for a partner who is travelling. It is a public piece of fiction; nobody has placed a message in a visitor’s belongings.

Before you leave

You have checked the ticket three times. The charger is packed. I have asked whether you have your keys, even though I watched you put them in your pocket. It is funny how affection can sound like a very ordinary checklist.

If I were leaving a note in your suitcase in this story, I would put it somewhere easy to find. I would not want you to spend the first morning of your trip searching every folded shirt for a sentimental surprise.

What I wish for you

I hope the journey gives you a view you did not expect. I hope the person beside you is considerate and the first meal tastes good. Learn a street by walking it. Find a place where you can sit without buying something every ten minutes. Let the trip belong to you.

There is no obligation to document every moment. Send a picture if you want. Keep some experiences entirely your own. A story often becomes better after it has had time to settle.

For the return

When you come back in this imagined letter, I will want to hear which little detail stayed with you. Perhaps a doorway, a sound, or a conversation you almost missed. The famous landmark can have its turn later.

Until then, take this small wish with you: may the new place be interesting, may you find your way when you need to, and may coming home feel like another good part of the journey.

A note about this reading

The people and journey are fictional. This page does not track a reader’s location or travel plans.