Ill-conceived Plans

worldofscribble Writing Challenge, Comedy of Errors.

Glumly, I stared at the two remaining boxes in the car's trunk. I was cold, my back hurt, and I remembered all too clearly how heavy these last two containers of my dorm room detritus had been when I'd loaded them a few hours before. There was a powdering of snow along the cardboard's outer edges--probably shouldn't have left the trunk open while making all those trips back and forth to the house--and I suspected it wouldn't be long before they'd start to collapse under all the internal weight pushing outward.

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