Reaching the corner at last, she kicked at the build up of snow that was hindering any further dragging of the suitcase, readjusted her hat (which, she realised now, had probably been bobbling along hilariously as she had attempted to storm down the street, ruining even further the image of strength and independence she had been trying to portray) and, unable to resist, took a last glance at the window of the house she had just left. Empty. He hadn't even bothered to watch her walk away. She pictured him sighing as she slammed the front door and returning immediately to his video game. What a bastard. With a much too high-pitched "hmph!" she flicked her hair from her face and flounced around the corner, still attempting to look proud and strong, although painfully aware that her daring strike for independence looked from the outside more like a pathetic street tantrum.
Finally around the corner and out of sight of the window, Kelly found herself a little lost as to what to do next. The suitcase she was dragging behind her contained enough underwear for two weeks, but only one change of clothes and no pyjamas or toiletries whatsoever. She had grabbed her passport before she left, as if she had been so hurt and offended that her only option was to leave the country, and luckily she had remembered her purse with all her bank cards and travel pass. Something niggled in the back of her mind as she looked down the street trying to decide what to do next. She had forgotten something more important than pyjamas and toothpaste: her phone was still charging by the bed. She had no way of contacting anybody, no way of accessing the internet, and no GPS. She swore under her breath, a small cloud puffing from her mouth as her warm breath hit the cold air. There was no way she was going back for it, not after the embarrassment of such a melodramatic exit. She had no choice but to carry on without it, dragging her suitcase along with less fervour now as she trudged towards the bus stop. She felt like a child running away from home: the sort of runaway who packed two Kit Kats and hid in the park until sunset before returning, cold and hungry, to a family who hadn't even realised she'd gone.
She boarded the first bus that pulled up and sat by the door, hugging her arms to her chest and feeling altogether stupid. This wasn't the first time she'd stormed out after an argument, but it was the first time she'd taken a suitcase with her.
