...that may require some explanation.
Shortly after I moved into my current apartment, some seven months ago, a suitcase appeared on the landing outside my door. I assumed that it belonged to an inhabitant of the apartment across the landing. It was large and red and leathery and leaned up against the railing.
And there it sat.
Friends coming over to the apartment began to ask things like "How long has that been here?" and "Whoa, it's still here?"
It continued to sit. Dust gathered, and pollen. The suitcase endured.
I began to construct elaborate theories as to the contents. A dead body? Nah...would've smelled it by now. Drugs? Weird place to store them. An ex-boyfriend's stuff was far and away the most likely explanation--arguably I may have been projecting, but still, struck me as the most plausible, except that he presumably hadn't come back to pick them up. (Now, some of us would have realized this after a week or so and either dragged the suitcase back in, or thrown it away, but apparently the inhabitants of said apartment were either not particular observant or were REALLY trying to prove a point.)
The suitcase continued to lurk.
After about four months, I stopped even noticing it. If it was an alien lifeform trying to lull me into complacency, waiting to flop open a gaping fabric maw, close the flaps over my legs and devour me with a wicked buzz of zippers, it had succeeded in putting me off my guard. I was ripe for suitcase predation. Didn't happen.
And today, it has vanished.
Good luck, ancient suitcase, wherever you are! You were a landmark in an inconstant world. Farewell.