London Looks Better on Me — The Brown Paper Bag

What's wrong with letting us take you to the airport? Luke's car sat beneath a streetlight downstairs, the engine still running. He got out, took my suitcase, and put it in the trunk without saying much. The car was quiet.

Sophie sat in the passenger seat. I sat in the back. Ten minutes into the drive, she suddenly turned around. Sarah, make sure you eat properly over there.

Your stomach's always been sensitive. Mm-hmm. And don't reach for food whenever you're stressed. You already have-

She stopped herself. You already get nervous easily. Too much stress will make you lose sleep. I know. Video call me when you miss me? What's the time difference again? Eight hours?

When you're asleep, I'll probably just be getting off work. Enough. Luke interrupted. Let her have some quiet. Sophie stuck out her tongue and turned back Luke's eyes flicked toward me in the rearview mirror. I looked away and watched the

race past the window. At the airport, Luke pushed my suitcase while Sophie clung to my arm. The three of us walked together, just like always. Except this time, I was in the middle instead of on the edge, because this would be the last.

At the check-in counter, I finished the process and got my boarding pass. Sophie hugged me tightly. Sarah, you idiot! She buried her face against my shoulder.

Her voice muffled. Who am I supposed to go shopping with after you leave? I patted her back. You have Luke, she let me go, wiped the corner of her eye,

then glanced at Luke as if giving him a signal. Luke stood a few feet away, holding something. He walked over and handed me a brown paper bag.