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designateddadfriendTravis first assumed the gym bag sitting on the floor of the station was a Safe Haven drop-off. It wouldn't be the first time someone left a baby in a bag at a fire station he was working at, after all. Putting one in a bag that read nothing special on the side seemed in poor taste, to say the least, but, well. People could be really terrible.
There was no baby in the bag, though. Just some basic, almost bland clothes in soft neutrals. (They looked, in fact, a lot like his own clothes. He wasn't going to examine that too closely.) Travis sighed, found a good-sized cardboard box, wrote "lost and found" on the side of it, and tossed the gym bag in. Then went to go back to his chores.
The messenger bag reading martyr complex had been left in the kitchen. This one contained fire safety manuals. It went into the box, too.
The large, military style duffel labeled generational internalized homophobia was too large for the box, so he shoved it into a closet.
Not once, in the process of all this, did he register the backpack reading dead husband slung over his own shoulders. . . .
[open, for sure!]
There was no baby in the bag, though. Just some basic, almost bland clothes in soft neutrals. (They looked, in fact, a lot like his own clothes. He wasn't going to examine that too closely.) Travis sighed, found a good-sized cardboard box, wrote "lost and found" on the side of it, and tossed the gym bag in. Then went to go back to his chores.
The messenger bag reading martyr complex had been left in the kitchen. This one contained fire safety manuals. It went into the box, too.
The large, military style duffel labeled generational internalized homophobia was too large for the box, so he shoved it into a closet.
Not once, in the process of all this, did he register the backpack reading dead husband slung over his own shoulders. . . .
[open, for sure!]