It all started with the innocent idea of packing.
Simple?
Ha! That was mistake number one.
She packed as if heading to three continents, two fashion weeks, and a camping trip.
— “Just this top. And maybe that other jacket… and those extra shoes. Okay, both pairs.”
The suitcase? Already begging for mercy.
The zipper? Experiencing existential dread.
Then came the move.
She sat.
Right on top of it.
A classic maneuver passed down through generations of overpackers.
🧳 Zipper vs. Butt — the ultimate duel.
Tension filled the room.
Time stood still.
Somewhere, a suitcase whispered, “not again…”
She bounced.
She twisted.
She performed suitcase yoga.
— “Come on, just close already!” — she pleaded, half-praying, half-sweating.
And then…
Click.
It closed.
She had won.
History was made.
She stood up, victorious.
Hair slightly messy.
Dignity fully intact.
The suitcase? Traumatized.
But sealed.
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