Not a Dead Body Just Too Many Souvenirs
Language: en
I ordered an extra-large suitcase in the middle of the night, only to have the delivery guy press me onto the bed the moment he walked in, accusing me of being a psycho killer trying to dispose of a body. He cuffed one end of a restraint to the headboard. His voice was shaking as he leaned in, his question a terrified gasp: “Ordering a suitcase this size at midnight… who are you planning to put in it?” I surveyed the wreckage of my hotel room—the mountains of souvenirs, the ripped-up packing foam. I sighed, a sound of utter defeat: “It’s your fault. Now it looks like I’ll have to buy a…