Chasing the Vintage Suitcase in Room 408

Chasing the Vintage Suitcase in Room 408

I was back in my old middle school, but the hallways were mapped out like the downtown subway station near my apartment. My sister called to say our grandmother's heavy vintage suitcase was left in 'Room 408' and I had to retrieve it before the final bell or it would be thrown away. The trek felt massive. I had to hike up these concrete stairwells that kept switching directions, dodging groups of teenagers and commuters rushing the opposite way. My sneakers kept sticking to the linoleum floor, making me jog in place like I was wading through wet cement. Every door I checked had three-digit numbers, but they jumped randomly from 210 to 500. A guy I used to work retail with was sitting behind a metal desk in the hallway and pointed me toward a service tunnel behind the cafeteria. When I finally yanked the door open to 408, the suitcase was sitting in the middle of an empty gymnasium under a single spotlight, but my phone battery hit one percent and died right as I grabbed the handle.