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The Old Leather Suitcase by Sugar De Santo

Disappeared. Without a trace. Without a reason. People vanish, without notice.

There was an old medium-sized dark leather suitcase standing on a platform. For hours.

Next to an empty bench. The conductor was worried. He feared the worst and called the police.

The officials came and for a moment they didn´t know what to do with the old suitcase. They decided to open the suitcase with the greatest care.

When the suitcase snapped open, the police were flabbergasted. The following was found: next to some underwear and black pants was a small, valuable, old sterling silver teapot. The pot had been wrapped in fine elegant white cloth, to make sure it was kept safe.

In one corner of the suitcase they found a package of sugar cubes, silver travel cutlery, and a pack of exquisite black tea.

When rummaging through the case, they also found more clothes, and a beautiful oriental wooden box exuding the smell of sandalwood.

In this box was a delightful crystal wine glass wrapped in deep-red velvet, and a white porcelain Chinese teacup and saucer decorated with elegant flowers.

Everything was delicately put together. All this showed an extraordinary taste that contrasted the cheap and simple clothes.

The officials also found some personal belongings. In one worn black jacket they discovered an expensive black fountain pen with a golden nib, obviously much used, and a container with royal blue ink, and some small notebooks tied together with a rubber band, and finally two old dictionaries. But no sign of the owner was found. It remained a mystery.

To whom did this old leather suitcase belong? In order to bring more light into the dark, the notebooks were sent to a graphologist for examination. What did he discover? The first pages of the first notebook had been kept neat and tidy.

The handwriting was beautiful, clean and elegant. The words spoke of joy and strength. After a few pages, the notes became more and more illegible, the writing seemed scrawled and the letters appeared smaller. There were ink and tea stains on the white sheets. Sentences had been crossed out or overwritten. These pages were confusing and unsettling, and they did not seem to make any sense. After careful consideration, the expert concluded that the person who had written the drafts must have been in unstable condition, and also ill; a self-inducted suicide, the graphologist said, could not be ruled out. Reports were written, and files closed. The suitcase was shut again.

Everything was still as the police had found it. The suitcase was given to a storage place in order to be released for an auction. A few weeks later, the suitcase was sold at an auction to a new owner for little money.

It was purchased by a nondescript person in black clothes sporting a hat. This person was homeless. Restless. Driven. As he touched the black leather suitcase, a familiar emotion stirred in his body. A tiny smile appeared on his face.

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