Keeping a Sense of Purpose

The old bag shuffled down the street. The wind billowed her slacks and pushed her along. She was worn, crumpled but not quite middle years, and a fellow or two passing had eyed her usefulness, from ample sagging bottom to lug handles, and had changed his mind. Not worth the effort it would take, stooping like that. For what?

So, she rolled on, past the elaborately decorated store fronts, feeling empty except for the receipt that lingered still. It documented the expenditure of eight dollars and seventy cents on a few five and dime trifles.

The seventy cents accounting for taxes.

The rest, consumables, already gone.

Yet the bag carried on.

12.01.2024

"Write a trashy story, but make it sound noble" challenge @Mariah and friend