Last Chance

Eleni

I yank on the stubborn zipper of my suitcase to no avail. It won’t shut. I release with a sigh, and the top flops open to reveal the picture of Dante and Christos I stole from his room. I swallow. I know stealing it is stupid. I don’t really know either man in this picture. But it just feels wrong, leaving this image behind in the shadow of what happened here.

I want to remember them like this. Innocent and young, before the Mafia pulled them under.

I don’t have any pictures of myself. Mom packed those up and took them with her to Greece. I wonder if I’d even recognize the girl I used to be.