“It’s the principle of the matter,” she said, dragging the suitcase away. It was threadbare and broken from years of careless treatment. In its bottom corner was a hole, she had obviously forgotten, and things of no apparent consequence spilled out onto the street behind her. She was walking too heavily to hear. The old forgotten items lay there casting small shadows, enjoying sunlight and fresh breeze for the first time in years. I didn’t say anything. It was about the principle after all.
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