The leather satchel popped open.
His eyes widened.
Messy contents on the floor.
A buried brother, boyfriend, parents, people.
A divorce, a couple of kids.
Broken hearts and dampened souls.
All things touched.
All things stained.
His eyes strained at the sight
and the door slammed tight
in his wake.
She straightened her slacks,
scooped up the leather sack,
and fastened the dead bolt behind him.
Molly Roland is a writer by nature, and she enjoys stepping over the invisible lines society loves to draw.