Now, at the age of twenty-five, he was in charge of his passport and its location. He thumbed through the keys on a spare key ring and located the one for his fire-proof box under his bed. Laying on his belly, he pulled the box out and unlocked it. Shuffling through an extra copy of his (their) lease, the emergency credit card his dad made him keep, a copy of his birth certificate, and his social security card, he finally found the small blue booklet at the bottom of the box. He also pocketed the credit card and social security card.

He could hear the movers finishing up in the living room. He sat on against the wall facing the bed. He couldn’t bring himself to touch it. His suitcase was resting on the bench at its foot, open but full of his essential items. Tears began to well as he remembered the sight of him in their bed with--

“Sir, we’re all done in the living room. Anything from this room need to go?” A short, burly man stuck his head in. He glanced around, obviously surveying the size of the furniture pieces.

“No,” Kurt’s voice whispered. He cleared his throat, forcing himself to deal with the situation. “No, I packed anything from here into the boxes for the living room. It was just a few pictures.” He stood up, kicking the fire box. He picked it, locked it shut and handed it to the moving man. “Just... Just this.”

“Sure thing. We’ll be outta your hair in a few minutes. And we’re storing all your stuff, right?”

Kurt nodded, hands sliding into his pockets and eyes focusing on his shoes. “Yes, that’s right. Do I need to meet you at the storage unit?”

“Nah, we’ll load it in. You already signed the contract so the manager will call you when it’s all in there.”

Kurt swallowed again, nodding silently. The man seemed to realize that he needed a moment alone and left him. He pulled his wallet out, slid the cards into a compartment and put it back in his pocket. Kurt turned to face the suitcase. He closed the lid and slowly zipped it shut. Carrying it into the living room, he looked around the home they once shared. The memories came flooding back. Every smile. Every fight. All the parties. And the other night.

He picked up his jacket and messenger bag from the couch and put them on. After slipping his passport into the front pocket of his bag, he pulled up the handle of his suitcase and rolled it out the door and into the next chapter of his life.