Travel Disaster

The suitcases are out of the closet. There are two of them. One for the woman. One for the man. I am happy they are leaving, of course, but do not want the man to forget the power I have over him. So, I laid on his suitcase. You know, so it would be covered in my hair, and my smell, and the fear of me.

Turns out, it was her suitcase. Not his. Great. Now her stuff will smell like me, and he will love her even more because of it.

If I was capable of feeling such emotions I would be ashamed for having made such a mistake. Instead, I'm choosing to wallow in disgust. What kind of woman lets the man have the bigger suitcase, anyway?

- Princess