She had a suitcase in one hand.
Not an overnight bag.
Not a cute little carry-on.
A full-sized, I’m-leaving-town-and-maybe-my-old-life suitcase.
Claire was twenty-nine, a graphic designer, and the kind of woman who made silence feel expensive. She had dark hair tucked behind her sunglasses, white sneakers, a wrinkled linen shirt, and the tired, sharp expression of someone who had spent the night making a decision she could not take back.