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The Bag That Would Not Close
My brother Ben was coming in the morning, and my carry-on bag would not close. I sat on it. The zip moved a little, then stopped. I wanted it shut before I slept, because the morning would be too short for a second try. He had written one line: "Wear shoes you can walk in. The city is big."
The heavy boots were in the bag, on top of a jacket and a sweater. I took the boots out and put them on my feet. At once the zip had more room. Shoes take space, and the pair I wear does not have to take it. The boots felt heavy and right. I could walk in them all day, and the bag could carry one lighter pair for the evening.
The sweater was folded into a square, and it still made a lump.