12.14.25: The Mystery Bag

Everyone owns a bag filled with random objects you never meant to collect. Old receipts, coins from foreign countries, keys with no locks. I once dug through mine and found a train ticket from Tokyo I’d forgotten. That little piece of paper hit me harder than a photo album. Bags are like unintentional diaries, cluttered timelines of where you’ve been. You can clean them, but part of you never wants to. Because those useless items carry memories in ways souvenirs can’t. The mystery bag is proof that the smallest scraps of life sometimes carry the biggest weight.