My Little House

There is always a luggage at the entrance of my home.
It’s my dad luggage, he travels a lot by train and by plane.
For a while now the suitcases have been scattered everywhere along with big boxes with the names of the rooms in the house on them.

According to Mom and the calendar, we are moving house tomorrow. But I don’t. I’m staying here with Tuna. I don’t need a bigger house, or a nicer city, or new friends.

Leaving a house means leaving a place of the heart to go to something unknown.