Elena zipped the canvas duffel bag shut with a satisfying finality and nudged it toward the bedroom door. "Are you grabbing the cooler, or should I?" she called out.

"I've got it!" Mark shouted from the kitchen. The refrigerator door slammed, followed by the muffled clinking of glass bottles. "I packed the turkey sandwiches and those IPAs you like. Did you remember your hiking boots?"

Elena paused, glancing toward the closet. "Almost forgot," she muttered, grabbing her scuffed brown boots and tossing them on top of the duffel.

They met in the hallway of their Chicago suburb home. Mark was wrestling with the heavy blue cooler, his car keys dangling from his mouth, while Elena managed the remaining bags.

"Thermostat set to sixty-five?" Mark asked, taking the keys out of his mouth as he unlocked the front door.

"Set. Coffee maker is off, and the back door is locked," Elena confirmed, running through their usual mental weekend checklist.

Outside, the crisp Saturday morning air hinted at the coming autumn. They loaded the trunk of their Subaru, playing a brief, familiar game of Tetris to make the cooler fit comfortably beside Elena's oversized weekender bag.

As Mark settled into the driver's seat and started the engine, Elena pulled up the GPS on her phone. "Okay, the interstate is a straight shot, about two hours to the lake house. But if we take Highway 12, it adds twenty minutes and we can stop at that diner in Lake Geneva."

Mark adjusted his rearview mirror and smiled. "Highway 12 it is. I could use a decent cup of coffee and a waffle."

Elena tapped the alternate route on her screen. As the navigation chime echoed in the cabin, Mark backed out of the driveway, and they settled into the quiet, comfortable rhythm of the road.


The glow of the iPad illuminated Elena’s face as she sat at the kitchen island. "If we leave by eight, we miss the worst of the Portland traffic and hit Cannon Beach just in time for an early lunch," she said, tracing a blue route on the screen.

Mark rinsed his coffee mug and loaded it into the dishwasher. "Eight works," he agreed. "Did you check the weather? I’m debating whether to pack the heavy raincoats or just the windbreakers."

"It’s the Oregon coast in October, Mark. Bring the heavy ones," Elena replied, sliding off her stool to finish her packing.

Within the hour, the hallway was cluttered with their usual weekend gear: a shared canvas duffel bag, a cooler packed with sparkling water and leftover turkey sandwiches, and Elena’s camera bag. Mark hefted the cooler, his car keys jingling in his pocket. "I’ll take this out to the Subaru. Can you make sure the back door is locked?"

"Already on it," Elena called back from the living room, where she was pressing the down arrow on the wall thermostat. "Setting the heat to sixty-two."

They met at the car, the crisp morning air carrying the faint scent of fallen pine needles. Mark arranged the trunk while Elena settled into the passenger seat, immediately connecting her phone to the dashboard Bluetooth. As Mark slid behind the wheel, he glanced over at his wife.

"Seatbelt?" he asked, an old, habitual ritual.

"Click," she said, tugging the strap to show him. "And I've got the acoustic road trip playlist queued up."

Mark shifted the car into reverse and backed out of their suburban driveway. "Perfect. Next stop, the Pacific." He tapped the steering wheel to the opening chords of the first song, and they headed toward the highway, leaving the quiet neighborhood behind.


"Did you pack the phone chargers?" Sarah asked, zipping up her canvas duffel bag on the kitchen island.

Mark looked up from his phone. "Yep, got both of them. And the printed directions, just in case cell service drops near the Shenandoah cabin."

"Perfect." Sarah grabbed her travel mug and filled it with the last of the morning's drip coffee. "If we leave now, we can beat the I-66 traffic and still have time to grab lunch in Front Royal before check-in."

Mark nodded, tossing the paper plate from his toast into the recycling bin. "Sounds good to me. I’ll go load the trunk. Can you check the back door and turn down the thermostat?"

"Already set it to sixty-five," she called out as he headed toward the garage. Sarah walked through the living room anyway, double-checking the deadbolt on the patio door and angling the blinds just enough to let her pothos plant get some indirect sunlight while they were gone.

Ten minutes later, they were settled into the front seats of their Subaru. Mark adjusted his seatbelt and tapped the center console. "Who's driving first?"

"I’ll drive," Sarah offered, putting her foot on the brake and starting the engine. "You navigate and find us a good podcast. None of the true crime ones this time, please. I want to actually relax this weekend."

Mark chuckled, scrolling through his audio app. "Fair enough. History or comedy?"

"Comedy," she decided, shifting the car into reverse.

As they backed out of their driveway, the crisp October air promised a perfect autumn getaway. Mark queued up the episode, settled back into his seat, and watched the familiar suburban streets roll by, glad to finally be on the road.


"Did you grab the phone chargers?" Sarah asked, leaning over the kitchen island to inspect their canvas tote bag.

Mark took the last sip of his coffee and set the mug in the dishwasher. "I packed two. And the dog's medication is already in there."

They were leaving for a two-night stay at a bed and breakfast in Cape May, their first weekend away since the spring. Their golden retriever was already safely dropped off at Sarah's sister’s house across town.

"Okay, let me just check the thermostat," Sarah said, walking toward the hallway. "I'm setting it to sixty-eight. No sense cooling an empty house."

"Good call," Mark replied. He hoisted their shared suitcase by its handle. "I'll take this out to the Subaru. Can you make sure the back door is locked?"

Sarah flipped the deadbolt on the patio door, gave it a firm tug to be absolutely sure, and grabbed her sunglasses from the entryway table. By the time she walked out into the bright Saturday morning, Mark had the trunk closed and was waiting in the driver's seat with the engine running.

She slid into the passenger side, pulling the seatbelt across her chest. "Google Maps says there's some traffic on the Parkway near the toll plaza," she noted, tapping her phone screen. "We should probably take the local route for the first twenty miles."

"Local it is," Mark agreed, shifting the car into reverse. "It’s a nicer drive anyway. Did you want to stop for gas now or wait until we're out of town?"

"Let's just get on the road. We have half a tank," Sarah said, settling back into her seat. Mark backed out of the driveway, the tires crunching softly on the asphalt, and they turned toward the coast.


Mark tapped his phone screen, scrolling through the weather app. "Looks like it might rain on Saturday afternoon near Seneca Lake. Should we still plan on hiking the gorge trail?"

Sarah looked up from the packing list she was scribbling on the back of a junk-mail envelope. "We can just bring our rain jackets. If it gets too heavy, we'll bail and hit up that winery we liked last time."

"Perfect." Mark stood and carried his empty coffee mug to the sink. "Are we taking the cooler? I can grab a bag of ice from the gas station on the way out."

"Yes, please. I already put the turkey sandwiches and the leftover pasta salad in it. I just need to add the sparkling water."

An hour later, their Subaru was idling in the driveway with the hatch open. Mark wrestled the blue cooler into the back, pushing it flush against Sarah’s faded canvas duffel bag.

"Did you check the back door?" Mark called out, pulling the trunk shut.

Sarah emerged from the front porch, locking the deadbolt with a firm click. "Locked. Thermostat is set to sixty-eight, and I unplugged the coffee maker." She jingled the car keys. "You want to drive the first leg, or should I?"

"I’ll drive," Mark said, walking around to the driver's side. "You can be in charge of the playlist. Just none of that true crime podcast stuff until we're at least on the interstate."

Sarah laughed and climbed into the passenger seat, plugging her phone into the dashboard console. "Deal. Eighties pop mix it is."

Mark adjusted the rearview mirror, shifted into reverse, and backed out into the quiet suburban street. The GPS chimed, indicating a three-hour drive ahead, as they headed toward the highway.


The zipper on the canvas duffel bag caught halfway, prompting Sarah to give it a sharp, practiced yank. It closed seamlessly. She set it by the front door of their split-level home, right next to a tote bag overflowing with granola bars, apples, and an assortment of charging cables.

"Are you sure we don't need the heavier jackets?" Mark called from the kitchen. The refrigerator door clicked shut. "The forecast said it might drop to the low forties in the mountains."

"I packed my fleece," Sarah said, walking into the kitchen to find him holding two steaming travel mugs. "If we freeze, we can always buy overpriced sweatshirts in Woodstock. It’s part of the upstate getaway experience."

Mark chuckled and handed her the silver mug. "Fair enough. Did you water the pothos?"

"Yesterday," she confirmed, taking a cautious sip of the hot coffee. "Are we taking the scenic route or the interstate?"

"Google Maps says the interstate saves us twenty minutes, but traffic on 87 is already building up. I vote we take the state highways. It’s a much prettier drive, anyway."

"State highways it is," Sarah agreed. "Just make sure you have the offline map downloaded in case we lose cell service near the cabin."

They grabbed their bags and stepped out into the crisp Friday afternoon air. Mark popped the trunk of their Honda CR-V, arranging the duffel and groceries so they wouldn't slide around on the winding roads, while Sarah climbed into the passenger seat and queued up their favorite true-crime podcast.

As Mark started the ignition and backed out of the driveway, Sarah glanced back at the house. "Wait. Did you lock the sliding glass door?"

Mark paused, his foot hovering over the brake. "Pretty sure." He sighed, shifting back into park. "I'll go check."


Sarah zipped her duffel bag shut and carried it into the kitchen, where David was staring into the open refrigerator.

"Are we taking the rest of the turkey, or should I toss it?" he asked, tapping his fingers against the door.

"Toss it," Sarah said, setting her bag by the back door. "We’re going to be eating out most of the time in Asheville anyway, and I don't want it smelling up the fridge by Sunday."

David nodded, dropping the plastic container into the trash before grabbing his own backpack from the hall chair. They had been planning this weekend getaway to the North Carolina mountains for a month—just a quiet two nights in a small cabin to escape their usual suburban routine.

"Did you remember your hiking boots?" David asked, double-checking his pockets for his wallet and keys.

"In the trunk already. Oh, wait, the thermostat." Sarah stepped over to the wall panel in the hallway and bumped the air conditioning up to seventy-eight degrees to save on the electric bill. "Okay, now I'm ready."

They walked out into the muggy Friday evening, the fading summer sun casting long shadows across their driveway. David loaded their bags into the back of the Honda CR-V while Sarah did a final lap around the porch, making sure the front door was deadbolted and the porch light was on its automatic timer.

Once inside the car, David started the engine and connected his phone to the dashboard screen. "Navigation says about three hours with traffic," he noted, adjusting the rearview mirror. "Should we stop for gas here at the corner, or wait until we hit the interstate?"

"Let's get gas now," Sarah said, leaning her seat back and kicking off her sandals. "Then it’s a straight shot."

David put the car in reverse, backing out of the driveway as the first song on their road-trip playlist began to play.


"Did you pack the extra phone chargers?" Sarah asked, leaning over the kitchen island to zip up her green canvas weekender bag.

Mark walked in from the hallway, holding two stainless-steel travel mugs of coffee. "Got them. Both the car charger and the wall blocks are in the front pocket of my backpack," he said, handing her a mug. "Did you want to take the interstate or the scenic route?"

"Let's take State Route 39," Sarah decided after taking a careful sip of the hot coffee. "It’s only a two-day trip down to the cabin. We might as well enjoy the fall foliage. Plus, it entirely avoids the toll booth backup near the city."

Mark nodded, setting his mug down to grab the small blue cooler from the counter. "Good call. I packed the turkey sandwiches, some apples, and those honey-mustard pretzels you like. Oh, and the reservation confirmation for the bed-and-breakfast is printed out and sitting in the glovebox, just in case our cell service drops out in the hills."

"You're a lifesaver," Sarah smiled, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

They moved out to the attached garage. Mark loaded the luggage and the cooler into the trunk of their Subaru Outback, arranging the bags so nothing would slide around, while Sarah climbed into the passenger seat and synced her phone to the car's Bluetooth system.

"Wait, did we lock the patio door?" Mark asked, pausing with his hand on the driver's side handle.

"I locked it right after I gave the spare key to Mrs. Higgins to feed the cat," Sarah confirmed.

Satisfied, Mark slid into the driver's seat and pressed the ignition button. The engine hummed to life, and the dashboard clock read 8:14 AM.

"Ready?" he asked, shifting into reverse.

"Ready,"


Sarah stood by the kitchen island, tapping her pen against a crumpled sticky note. "Did you pack the phone chargers?" she called out down the hallway.

Mark appeared from the bedroom, wrestling a faded green duffel bag over his shoulder. "Two of them. And the insulated travel mugs," he said, dropping the bag by the front door.

They were heading to a rented cabin in the Berkshires for a quick two-night getaway. The primary debate of their Friday evening wasn’t about their weekend itinerary, but rather how to handle dinner on the road.

"I'm thinking we just do a drive-thru," Mark suggested, double-checking his jeans pockets for his wallet. "If we stop for a sit-down meal, we’re going to hit the absolute worst of the Hartford traffic."

Sarah nodded, sorting a small stack of mail and tossing it onto the counter. "Fine, but I need real coffee if I'm navigating, not gas station water. We can stop at the Starbucks near the highway entrance."

"Deal. Did you check the back door?" Mark asked, grabbing the house keys from the ceramic bowl.

"Locked and bolted," Sarah confirmed. She shrugged into her denim jacket, grabbed her oversized tote bag, and followed him out into the mild October evening.

The driveway gravel crunched under the tires as Mark backed their Subaru onto the quiet suburban street. Sarah adjusted the passenger seat and plugged her phone into the center console to pull up the GPS.

"Two hours and forty minutes," she announced, the blue route glowing brightly on the dashboard screen.

Mark shifted into drive and let out a long, heavy exhale, the lingering stress of the workweek finally melting from his shoulders. "Not bad," he said, reaching over to briefly squeeze her hand. "Put on that playlist you made. Let's get out of here."


Elena stood by the kitchen island, tapping her pen against the back of an envelope. "Okay, I've got the small cooler, our hiking boots, and the umbrella. Did you grab the extra phone chargers?"

"Got them," Mark called from the hallway, his voice slightly muffled as he wrestled into his fleece jacket. He emerged carrying two overstuffed duffel bags. "Though I’m starting to think three pairs of shoes each is a bit much for two nights in Asheville."

Elena rolled her eyes playfully, carrying her empty coffee mug to the sink. "The forecast said it might rain, Mark. I'm not walking around a brewery in soggy sneakers, and neither are you. Did you remember to lower the thermostat?"

"Down to sixty-two," he confirmed, setting the bags by the front door. "I also took out the kitchen trash and locked the back patio door."

"Perfect." Elena grabbed her sunglasses from the counter and tossed him the car keys. "You drive the first shift. I'll navigate and manage the snacks."

Outside, the crisp North Carolina morning air held the promise of autumn. Mark popped the trunk of their Honda CR-V, shifting a reusable grocery bag full of trail mix, apples, and pretzels to make room for the duffels. Elena did a final lap around the porch, double-checking that the front windows were completely shut before locking the deadbolt.

She slid into the passenger seat, immediately plugging her phone into the dashboard console. "Maps says it's about a three-hour drive if we avoid the interstate construction near Hickory."

"Sounds good. Let's take the scenic route," Mark said. He adjusted the rearview mirror, put the car in reverse, and backed out of the driveway. "Want to put on that history podcast we started last week?"

"Already queued up," Elena said, settling back into her seat as they headed toward the mountains.


The open suitcase lay on the mattress, half-filled with Sarah’s sweaters and Mark’s tightly rolled t-shirts.

"Did you pack the phone chargers?" Sarah asked, tossing a pair of heavy hiking socks into the suitcase's mesh pocket.

"I grabbed the extra-long cord from the living room," Mark said, emerging from the master bathroom with his toiletry bag. "Do we need the winter jackets? The weather app says it'll drop to the forties in the Catskills by Saturday night."

"Better safe than sorry," Sarah replied, pulling two fleece zip-ups from the closet. "Plus, if we end up eating outside at that brewery, we'll want them."

Mark nodded, zipping the luggage shut. "Good call."

The next morning, the kitchen counter became a staging ground for their road trip essentials: two travel mugs of dark roast coffee, a half-empty bag of pretzels, and two pairs of sunglasses. Mark carried the suitcase out to their Subaru, the crisp autumn air hinting at the change in season, while Sarah did the final sweep of the house. She checked the stove dials, locked the back door, and nudged the thermostat down to sixty-two degrees.

When she finally slid into the passenger seat, Mark had already queued up a true-crime podcast on the dashboard screen.

"GPS says two hours and forty minutes," Mark said, shifting the car into reverse. "Traffic on I-87 isn't terrible yet, but we should probably skip the sit-down breakfast and just grab drive-thru on the way."

"Works for me," Sarah said, blowing gently on her hot coffee. "As long as we're out of the city by nine. Oh, wait. Did you lock the front door?"

"I thought you did."

Sarah sighed, a fond, familiar smile breaking through. "Don't move." She hopped out, keys jingling, to secure the house.


Sarah zipped her canvas duffel bag on the kitchen island and sighed. "Did you grab the extra phone chargers?"

Mark paused with his hand on the refrigerator door, scrolling through his mental checklist. "I packed mine. Do you want me to grab the small cooler for these grapes and the leftover turkey?"

"Just the grapes," Sarah said, picking up her travel mug. "We're going to that pub near the lake for dinner tonight, remember?"

Mark nodded, tossing the grapes into a canvas tote along with two bags of pretzels and a half-empty box of granola bars. He glanced at the microwave clock—3:15 PM. If they left now, they’d beat the worst of the Friday afternoon traffic heading out of the city.

"Are we taking the scenic route or the highway?" he asked, retrieving his sunglasses from the clutter on the counter.

"Highway," Sarah replied, walking past him to adjust the hallway thermostat down to sixty-two degrees. "I just want to get to the Airbnb and open that bottle of Merlot before it gets dark."

They fell into their usual pre-departure dance. Mark locked the back door and checked the coffee maker twice, even though he had already unplugged it. Sarah poured an extra scoop of dry food into the cat's bowl, giving their tabby a quick scratch behind the ears before setting the burglar alarm.

Ten minutes later, they were buckling their seatbelts in the front of the Subaru. Mark started the engine, the air conditioning roaring to life to combat the humid July heat.

"Google Maps says two hours and ten minutes if we avoid the toll road," Sarah announced, resting her phone in the cup holder.

"Perfect," Mark said, shifting the car into reverse. He backed out of the driveway, letting out a long breath as they left their neighborhood behind, the weekend finally beginning.


Elena stood at the kitchen island, scrolling through the route on her phone. "If we leave by six, we can beat the worst of the I-95 traffic," she said.

Mark looked up from zipping his canvas duffel bag on the living room sofa. "Works for me. Did you remember to pack the good coffee this time? The stuff at the Airbnb is always terrible."

"Already in the tote," Elena replied, holding up a bag of dark roast. "Along with the dog's medication and his extra leash. Are you going to load the cooler?"

Mark nodded, grabbing his keys from the ceramic bowl by the door. "Yeah, I'll put it in the trunk now. Can you check the thermostat before we head out? Set it to sixty-five."

They moved through their well-worn departure routine. While Mark wrestled the cooler, their luggage, and a very excited golden retriever into the back of their Subaru, Elena did a final sweep of the house. She unplugged the toaster, lowered the heat, made sure the back door was deadbolted, and turned off the porch light.

Five minutes later, she climbed into the driver's seat. The garage door rumbled shut behind them, sealing off the house for the weekend.

"Do you want me to drive halfway?" Mark asked, adjusting his seatbelt and settling in.

"No, I’m good for now," Elena said, putting the car in gear. "You can navigate and pick the podcast. Just nothing about true crime, please. I want to actually relax."

Mark smiled, plugging his phone into the dashboard. "Deal. Roman history it is." As they pulled out of their


The kitchen island was a clutter of canvas duffel bags, tangled phone chargers, and half-empty travel mugs. Mark zipped his bag shut and leaned over the granite counter. "Did you forward the confirmation email for the Airbnb?" he asked, swiping through his inbox.

"Sent it ten minutes ago," Sarah said, emerging from the hallway with a handful of thick wool socks. She tossed them into her open weekender bag. "The host said the lockbox code is just the last four digits of my cell number. Also, we need to stop for gas before we hit the interstate."

"I can do that," Mark offered, grabbing his sunglasses from the ceramic bowl by the door. "I’ll drive the first leg if you want to navigate and play DJ."

"Deal. Did you check the weather up in the mountains? I packed my fleece, but I'm wondering if I need my heavy rain jacket."

Mark pulled up the weather app on his phone. "It says partly cloudy, maybe a passing shower tomorrow afternoon. The fleece should be fine, but just throw the jacket in the trunk. Better safe."

Sarah nodded, stuffing the nylon jacket down the side of her bag before wrestling the zipper closed. "Okay, I think that’s everything. The plants are watered, the thermostat is set down to sixty-five, and the back door is locked tight."

"Trash is out, too," Mark added, hoisting both of their heavy bags over his shoulders.

They walked out into the crisp Friday evening air. The suburban street was quiet, save for a neighbor’s lawnmower buzzing in the distance. Mark tossed the bags into the trunk of their Subaru while Sarah climbed into the passenger seat, immediately plugging her phone into the car's charging cable.

As Mark started the engine, Sarah queued up their favorite acoustic playlist. "Ready?" she asked, rolling her window down an inch.

"Ready," Mark smiled, putting the car in reverse and backing out of the driveway.


Mark folded his thickest flannel shirt and wedged it into the navy duffel bag on the bed. "Are you sure we don't need rain jackets? The forecast said it might only drizzle Sunday morning in Astoria."

Sarah paused in the doorway, a tangle of phone chargers dangling from her hand. "It’s the Oregon coast in October, Mark. Bring the rain jacket. If we don’t, it’ll pour the entire weekend."

"Fair point." He tossed his dark green windbreaker into the bag and zipped it shut with a firm tug.

Downstairs, the Friday evening light was already fading. They had been looking forward to this two-night getaway for a month—nothing extravagant, just a rented cabin near the beach, a couple of paperback books, and a desperate break from their endless remote-work Zoom calls. Sarah unplugged the coffee maker, double-checked the deadbolt on the back door, and adjusted the hallway thermostat down to sixty degrees.

"Did you leave the extra key for the cat sitter?" Mark called from the hallway, hoisting the heavy duffel onto his shoulder.

"Under the potted fern, exactly where Mrs. Higgins expects it," Sarah assured him, slipping on her sneakers. She grabbed her insulated travel mug and the house keys from the entryway bowl. "Do we have the road trip snacks?"

"Got the cooler in the trunk already. Cheddar popcorn and apples."

They walked out into the crisp autumn air. Mark took the driver’s seat of their Honda CR-V while Sarah connected her phone to the dashboard Bluetooth. As he backed out of the driveway, Sarah queued up the history podcast they’d been saving for the drive.

"Maps says traffic is surprisingly clear on Highway 26," she noted, settling into her seat.

Mark turned onto the main road, the tension in his shoulders finally dropping.


"Should we leave right after work on Friday, or wait until Saturday morning?" Sarah asked, staring at the Google Maps route on her laptop.

Mark looked up from washing the dinner plates. "If we leave at five, we’ll hit rush hour on I-95, but we’ll wake up at the coast. I vote Friday. I can load the Subaru Thursday night."

"Okay, Friday it is," Sarah agreed, typing a quick text to their neighbor. "I just asked Mrs. Higgins to feed the cat. Just the dry food this time."

The next two days blurred in a flurry of ordinary preparations. By Friday at 5:15 PM, the sky was already taking on a late-autumn dusk. Mark stood by the open trunk of their hatchback in the driveway, wedging his duffel bag into the corner to make room for a small cooler.

"Did you grab the EZ-Pass?" he called out toward the house.

Sarah emerged from the front door, locking the deadbolt and jiggling the handle twice—a habit he’d stopped teasing her about years ago. "It’s in the glove compartment," she said, descending the porch steps. She carried a canvas tote bag overflowing with travel mugs, road-trip snacks, and a tangled phone charger. "And I brought the salt and vinegar chips you like."

"You're a lifesaver," Mark said, shutting the trunk with a solid thud. He slid into the driver's seat while she settled into the passenger side, immediately plugging in her phone to queue up a podcast for the drive.

As Mark backed out of the driveway, the dashboard clock glowed 5:22 PM. "Not bad," he murmured, shifting into drive. "Only twenty minutes behind schedule."

"Just wait until we hit the toll bridge," Sarah laughed, adjusting her seat heater. The familiar neighborhood streets slipped past them as they headed for the highway, ready to leave the routine of the workweek in their rearview mirror.


Mark zipped his canvas duffel and set it by the front door, glancing over at the kitchen where Sarah was doing a final sweep.

"Did you grab the phone chargers?" he called out, double-checking his pockets for his wallet and keys.

"I put them in the glove compartment," Sarah replied. She wiped down the counter one last time and adjusted the thermostat down to sixty-two degrees. "And I packed the leftover turkey sandwiches in the cooler so we don't have to stop for overpriced drive-thru on the way up."

"Perfect." Mark grabbed the handle of the small cooler and hoisted his duffel over his shoulder. "Are we taking the toll road? The map says it'll save us twenty minutes, but traffic on 95 is already building up."

Sarah locked the back patio door and joined him in the hallway. "Let's just pay the toll. It’s worth it to get to the cabin before dark." She reached for her jacket. "Do you have the keycode the host sent?"

"Saved in my phone," Mark said, pushing the front door open.

A crisp October breeze hit them as they walked out to the driveway. Mark loaded the bags into the trunk of their Subaru while Sarah climbed into the passenger seat, immediately plugging in her phone to pull up her road-trip playlist.

Mark slid behind the wheel, pulling his seatbelt across his chest. "Trash is out, doors are locked, heat is down?"

"All set," Sarah said, tapping the dashboard screen to display the route. "GPS is ready."

Mark shifted into reverse and backed out of the driveway. As they merged onto the main road, leaving their quiet suburban neighborhood behind, they both let out a synchronized, quiet sigh. The weekend had officially begun.


Friday evening, Sarah folded the last of her sweaters into the canvas duffel on their bed. "Do you think we need the heavier jackets for Cape May?" she called out to the hallway.

Mark appeared in the doorway, toothbrush in hand. "The weather app said it might drop to the low fifties at night by the water. I packed my fleece, just in case."

"Fleece it is," she said, tossing a thick denim jacket into the bag and zipping it shut.

"Are we still aiming for an eight o'clock departure?" Mark asked, stepping back into the bathroom to rinse his mouth. "If we hit the Garden State Parkway before nine, we’ll miss the worst of the Saturday shore traffic."

"Eight is perfect. I’ll program the coffee maker tonight."

The next morning, the kitchen smelled of dark roast and toasted bagels. Mark carried the bags out to the Subaru while Sarah did a final sweep of the house. She checked the stove burners, unplugged the toaster, and made sure the back patio door was deadbolted.

When she climbed into the passenger seat, Mark handed her a silver travel mug. "Cream, no sugar."

"You're a lifesaver," Sarah said, taking a cautious sip of the hot coffee. "Did you make sure the E-ZPass is in here?"

Mark tapped the white plastic transponder velcroed behind the rearview mirror. "Right here. I also downloaded those three episodes of the true crime podcast you wanted to listen to."

Sarah smiled and adjusted her seatbelt as Mark shifted the car into reverse. The driveway gravel crunched beneath the tires. It was only a two-night getaway, just a brief escape from spreadsheets and endless Zoom meetings, but as they pulled onto the main road and the GPS chimed with their first direction, the weekend finally felt real.


Mark zipped up the canvas duffel bag and set it by the front door, next to the small blue cooler. "Did you grab the hiking boots?" he called out toward the hallway.

"Got them," Sarah replied, emerging from the bedroom with two pairs of boots dangling by their laces. She dropped them onto the welcome mat with a soft thud. "And I packed the extra-thick socks. The forecast said it's supposed to drop into the low forties up near Shenandoah tonight."

Mark nodded, walking over to the hallway thermostat. He pushed the dial down to sixty-two degrees for the weekend. "Perfect. I’ll make coffee for the thermos if you want to start loading the back seat."

"Deal." Sarah grabbed her keys and the duffel bag, nudging the front door open with her hip. The brisk October morning air immediately flooded the entryway.

Ten minutes later, the trunk of their Subaru was packed. Mark handed Sarah a steaming travel mug before sliding into the driver’s seat. He adjusted the rearview mirror while Sarah plugged her phone into the dashboard, pulling up the GPS.

"Okay, ETA is two hours and fifteen minutes," she said, tapping the screen. "If we take I-66, we should bypass most of the weekend construction on Route 29."

"Sounds good to me. Hey, did you lock the back patio door?"

Sarah paused, her finger hovering over their Spotify playlist. "I think so. Wait, no. I cracked it earlier to water the ferns."

Mark put the car back in park with a gentle, knowing sigh. "I'll go check."

When he returned a minute later, giving a thumbs-up, he shifted into drive and pulled out of their driveway. Sarah pressed play, a soft acoustic guitar filling the cabin.

"Ready?" Mark asked, glancing over as they approached the highway on-ramp.

"Ready," Sarah smiled, blowing on her coffee. "Let's go."


Mark tossed the canvas duffel bag into the trunk of the Honda, shifting a bulky cooler to the side to make it fit. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across their suburban driveway.

"Did you grab the phone chargers?" Sarah called from the front porch, securing the deadbolt with a familiar heavy *clunk*.

"Got them," Mark said, slamming the trunk shut. "And the snacks. Though I think we might need more ice if we’re actually going to grill the chicken tomorrow."

Sarah walked down the steps, adjusting her sunglasses against the glare. "There’s a gas station right off exit 42. We can grab ice there, and maybe some of those terrible cheddar pretzels you like."

She slid into the passenger seat while Mark got behind the wheel. The dashboard clock read 4:15 PM. They had managed to log off from work just early enough to beat the worst of the Friday interstate traffic.

"Are we taking I-95 the whole way, or taking the scenic route through the valley?" Mark asked, starting the engine. The air conditioning kicked in, blowing a blast of warm, then comfortably cool, air.

"Let's stick to the highway until dinner," Sarah decided, pulling up the GPS on her phone and resting it in the cup holder. "I don't want to navigate the winding back roads in the dark. Plus, if we make good time, we can stop at that roadside diner near the lake for burgers."

"Sounds like a plan." Mark shifted into reverse, glancing over his shoulder as he backed out of the driveway.

As they turned onto the main road, the shared tension of the workweek seemed to evaporate. Sarah queued up a familiar road-trip playlist, and Mark reached over, briefly squeezing her hand. It was only a two-day getaway to a rented cabin, but it was exactly what they needed.


"Should I pack the heavy jacket or just the fleece?" Mark called out from the bedroom, holding up two hangers in the doorway.

Sarah looked up from the kitchen island, where she was arranging granola bars and two apples into a canvas tote bag. "The weather app says it might drop into the low forties near the mountains," she said. "I'd bring the heavy one, just in case."

"Good call," Mark said, tossing the jacket onto his duffel bag. They were heading to a bed and breakfast in the Shenandoah Valley for a quick weekend getaway—their first trip in months.

The next morning, the house was a flurry of quiet, efficient routine. Mark carried the bags out to their Honda, the crisp Saturday morning air biting at his knuckles. Inside, Sarah did a final sweep of the living room, watering the ferns and unplugging the coffee maker.

"All set?" Mark asked as she stepped out onto the porch, pulling the front door shut behind her.

"Wait," Sarah paused, her hand hovering over the deadbolt. "Did I leave the thermostat on seventy?"

"I turned it down to sixty-two when I grabbed my sunglasses," Mark assured her, pressing the button on his key fob to unlock the passenger side door.

She smiled, visibly relaxing. "You're the best."

They settled into the car, the familiar smell of old leather and mint gum greeting them. Sarah plugged her phone into the dashboard, pulling up the map routing them toward the interstate.

"Two hours and fifteen minutes," she announced, adjusting the volume on a playlist they had made together years ago.

Mark put the car in reverse, checking the rearview mirror. "Next stop, vacation." He backed out of the driveway, the tires crunching softly against the pavement as they turned toward the highway.


The worn road map lay flat on the kitchen island, though Sarah had already plugged the address of the Blue Ridge cabin into her phone.

"Weather app says it might drop to the low forties tonight," she said, scrolling with her thumb. "Did you grab your fleece?"

Mark looked up from the cooler he was stocking with turkey sandwiches, apples, and a six-pack of pale ale. "I packed the thick gray hoodie. That should be enough, right?"

"Take the fleece," Sarah advised, tossing a bag of pretzels onto the counter. "You always get cold when we sit out on the porch."

"Fair point," Mark conceded, wiping his hands on a dish towel. "I'll go grab it. You want me to bring down your hiking boots?"

"Yes, please. They’re in the back of the hall closet."

The next morning brought the familiar, choreographed routine of departure. While Mark wrestled their two duffel bags and the cooler into the trunk of their Honda CR-V, Sarah did the final sweep of the house.

"Thermostat is set to sixty-five, coffee maker is unplugged, back door is locked," she announced, sliding into the passenger seat and pulling the seatbelt across her chest.

"Did you leave the key for the cat sitter?" Mark asked, starting the engine.

"Under the mat. And I left Mrs. Higgins' instructions on the fridge."

Mark nodded, satisfied. He reversed out of the driveway, the tires crunching softly against the dry autumn leaves. As they merged onto the interstate, the morning sun broke through the overcast sky, casting a bright glare over the windshield. Sarah flipped down her visor and connected her phone to the car's Bluetooth, queuing up their favorite acoustic playlist.

"Two hours to the mountains," Mark smiled, patting her knee. "And we're actually on time."


Sarah pressed her knee into the overstuffed duffel bag, finally coaxing the zipper closed. "I packed the extra wool socks, just in case," she called out toward the kitchen.

Mark emerged into the hallway, balancing a small red cooler against his hip. "Good call. The weather app said it might drop into the low forties up in Shenandoah tonight." He set the cooler by the front door. "I’ve got the turkey sandwiches, bottled water, and those honey mustard pretzels you like. Did we decide against bringing the laptop?"

"Yeah, let's leave it," Sarah said, grabbing her canvas tote from the armchair. "The whole point of renting this cabin is to unplug. Plus, they charge extra for the Wi-Fi anyway."

"Works for me." Mark walked back to the hallway to lower the thermostat to sixty-two degrees, pausing to ensure the deadbolt on the back door was locked. "Did you leave the instructions for Buster?"

"Mrs. Higgins is coming over to feed the cat in the morning," Sarah reminded him, slipping on her sneakers. "I left the spare key under the mat and a sticky note on the counter with our cell numbers."

Satisfied, Mark scooped his keys from the ceramic bowl. "Alright then. Let's hit the road."

They carried their bags out to the driveway. The Friday evening air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of neighborhood fireplaces. Mark popped the trunk of their Subaru, wedging the cooler securely behind the duffel bags so it wouldn't slide around on the winding mountain roads.

Once inside the car, Sarah plugged her phone into the dashboard and tapped the cabin's address into Google Maps. "Two hours and fifteen minutes," she announced.

"Not bad," Mark said, shifting into reverse. "We'll be there by dinner."


Sarah zipped her canvas duffel bag and set it by the front door, double-checking her mental list. It was Saturday morning, and the coastal fog was just beginning to burn off outside their Seattle townhouse.

"Did you remember the phone chargers?" Mark called from the kitchen. The refrigerator door thumped shut.

"Packed them in the blue backpack," Sarah replied, walking over to the hallway thermostat. She dialed it down to fifty-five degrees, a familiar routine for their weekend getaways. "Are we taking the leftover pasta, or tossing it?"

"Tossing it," Mark said, emerging with two steaming travel mugs of coffee. He handed one to her. "It’s been in there since Tuesday. I don't want to risk it."

Sarah took a sip of the dark roast, nodding in agreement. "Fair enough."

They carried their bags out to the driveway and loaded up the Honda. The crisp morning air held a slight chill, a gentle reminder that autumn was finally settling in. Mark popped the trunk and arranged the bags while Sarah slid into the passenger seat, officially claiming the role of DJ and navigator for the first leg of the drive.

"Do you want me to drive the whole way to Astoria, or do you want to swap in Olympia?" Mark asked, shutting the trunk and climbing behind the wheel.

"Let's play it by ear," Sarah said, tapping the car’s touchscreen to queue up a new history podcast they had been meaning to start. "If the traffic on I-5 is as bad as usual, you'll probably want a break."

Mark chuckled, buckling his seatbelt and shifting the car into reverse. "Good point. Let's just hope we beat the worst of it."

As they pulled out of the neighborhood, the familiar comfort of their shared routine washed over them. Sarah adjusted her seat, the GPS route glowing on the dashboard, and Mark turned the car south, settling in for the quiet weekend escape ahead.


Mark stared at the open duffel bag on the bed. "Do I need the heavy sweater? The weather app says it’s going to drop into the low sixties."

"Bring it just in case," Elena said from the bathroom, tossing a travel-sized toothpaste into her toiletry bag. "You know how the wind gets off the water at night."

They were leaving for a two-night stay at a rented coastal Delaware cottage, a much-needed break from their suburban Maryland routine.

Downstairs in the kitchen, they negotiated the contents of the cooler. Elena packed honeycrisp apples and a block of sharp cheddar, while Mark slipped in a bag of jalapeño potato chips and two cans of cold brew.

"Are we taking I-95 or the back roads?" Mark asked, double-checking the locks on the sliding glass door.

"Back roads, definitely," Elena replied, grabbing her sunglasses from the kitchen island. "I don't want to deal with the interstate traffic, even if it adds forty minutes. We’re in no rush."

Saturday morning unfolded in a familiar choreography. Mark loaded the trunk of their Subaru while Elena adjusted the thermostat and made absolutely sure the coffee pot was turned off. The autumn air was crisp, holding the promise of a clear weekend.

"Did you grab the phone chargers?" Mark asked, pausing with his hand on the driver's side door.

Elena patted her canvas tote bag. "Got them. And the toll pass, just in case we change our minds on the route."

Mark slid into the driver's seat and started the engine, waiting for his phone to connect to the dashboard. "Podcast or playlist?"

"Let's start with music," Elena said, buckling her seatbelt.

Mark backed out of the driveway, clicking the garage door remote as they pulled onto the quiet street, finally ready for the weekend.


Sarah zipped her duffel bag with a final, decisive tug and carried it out to the hallway. Mark was already at the front door, slipping on his sneakers while balancing a travel mug of hot coffee.

"Did you grab the cooler?" Sarah asked, tossing him the keys to the Subaru.

Mark caught them with one hand. "Yeah, it’s in the trunk. Turkey sandwiches, grapes, and the good cheddar. Oh, and I turned the thermostat down to sixty-two."

"Perfect." Sarah grabbed her sunglasses from the console table. "Did you check the back door?"

Mark paused, his hand resting on the doorknob. He let out a soft sigh. "I thought you checked it."

"I was packing the toiletries," she said, already turning back toward the kitchen. "I'll double-check."

A moment later, the deadbolt clicked into place, and Sarah reappeared. "Okay, now we're good to go."

Outside, the Saturday morning air was crisp. They lived in a quiet suburb of Charlotte, and the drive to their rented cabin in the Blue Ridge Mountains would take just under three hours if traffic on I-77 wasn't terrible.

Mark popped the trunk, rearranging Sarah’s duffel next to his battered weekend bag and the small red cooler. "You want to drive first, or should I?" he asked, shutting the tailgate with a dull metallic thud.

"I'll drive," Sarah said, walking around to the driver's side. "You can navigate and be the DJ. Just no sad indie folk music until we're at least past Statesville."

Mark laughed, climbing into the passenger seat and pulling the seatbelt across his chest. "Deal. Classic rock it is." He pulled out his phone to queue up a playlist, took a sip of his coffee, and smiled as Sarah backed the car out of the driveway, ready for a quiet couple of days away.


Sarah zipped her duffel bag and set it by the front door. "Did you pack a heavy sweater?" she called toward the bedroom. "The forecast says it might drop into the forties near the lake tonight."

"Yeah, grabbed the gray fleece," Mark shouted back. He emerged a moment later with his own overnight bag and a tangle of phone chargers, dropping them onto the entryway bench. "Are we taking I-95 or the scenic route? The app says traffic is already backing up near the toll bridge."

Sarah pulled up the map on her phone. "Let's do the scenic route. It adds twenty minutes, but I really can't deal with stop-and-go right now. Plus, we can stop at that diner in Woodbury for lunch."

"Sounds like a plan." Mark headed into the kitchen, opening the fridge. "Should we toss these leftover strawberries, or will they survive until Sunday night?"

"Just toss them in the compost. Or eat them," she said, walking over to the hallway thermostat and lowering it to sixty-two degrees.

Mark opted to eat them, popping the last three into his mouth before rinsing the plastic container for the recycling bin. He grabbed his sunglasses from the counter. "Coffee pot is off, backdoor is locked."

"Great. I have the road snacks and the water bottles in this tote." Sarah slung her purse over her shoulder.

They carried their bags out to the driveway. The crisp Saturday morning air held the promise of a clear, quiet weekend. Mark popped the trunk of their Subaru and tossed the bags inside, tucking them neatly next to his jumper cables.

Once they were buckled in, Sarah connected her phone to the car's Bluetooth. "I made a playlist. Mostly acoustic stuff."

"Perfect," Mark said, shifting the car into reverse and backing out of the driveway. "Next stop, lakeside."


The hall closet door clicked shut as Mark grabbed his windbreaker. "Did you turn the thermostat down?" he called toward the kitchen.

"Set to sixty-two," Sarah answered, emerging with two insulated travel mugs. She handed him the silver one. "I made coffee at home so we don’t have to stop at Dunkin' right away."

"You're a lifesaver," Mark said, taking a grateful sip. He balanced the mug against his hip while hauling their small rolling suitcase out the front door and popping the trunk of their Subaru. The crisp October morning air in upstate New York carried the faint scent of wet leaves.

Sarah locked the front deadbolt, jiggling the handle twice—an ingrained habit she’d had since they bought the house. She walked down the driveway, slid into the passenger seat, and immediately brought up the GPS on her phone.

"It says two and a half hours to the Airbnb in Woodstock," she said, adjusting her seatbelt. "If we take the Thruway, it's faster, but Route 9W is more scenic. What do you think?"

Mark started the engine, waiting a second for the heater to kick in. "Let's just do the Thruway for now. I want to get to town before noon so we can grab lunch at that diner you read about."

"Good call. We can take the scenic route on the way back Sunday." Sarah plugged her phone into the center console, and a familiar indie-folk playlist began filtering through the car speakers.

"Did you grab the tote bag with the snacks?" Mark asked, glancing over his shoulder as he shifted into reverse.

"Backseat, right behind you. Pretzels, apples, and water."

"Perfect." Mark backed out of the driveway, the tires crunching softly over fallen pine needles. As they pulled onto their quiet suburban street, Sarah reached over and rested her hand briefly on his shoulder, both of them finally exhaling the work week away.


"Should we bring the leftover pasta?" Sarah asked, holding a plastic container half-full of baked ziti.

Mark paused at the bottom of the stairs, adjusting the strap of their shared canvas duffel bag over his shoulder. "Let's just grab something on the road. I don't want to mess with the cooler for a two-hour drive."

"Fair enough," Sarah said. She shoved the container back onto the middle shelf and shut the refrigerator door. "We’re going to a cabin in the woods, not the moon. I’m sure there’s a grocery store nearby if we get desperate."

It was Friday evening, and the long work week had left them both craving a change of scenery. The short weekend rental in the Blue Ridge Mountains was exactly what they needed.

While Mark carried the bags out to the trunk of their Subaru, Sarah did a final sweep of the house. She lowered the thermostat to sixty-two degrees, double-checked the lock on the back patio door, and made sure the coffee maker was unplugged.

She stepped out into the mild autumn evening and locked the front door behind her. Mark was already in the driver’s seat, syncing his phone to the car's Bluetooth.

"Did you grab the phone chargers?" he asked as she climbed into the passenger side.

"Got them," Sarah said, dropping her tote bag at her feet. She pulled up the GPS on her phone, the screen illuminating her face. "Traffic on I-81 looks a little heavy. Do you want to take the highway anyway, or cut through the scenic route?"

Mark put the car into reverse and backed out of the driveway. "Let's stick to the highway until we clear the suburbs. We can stop at that diner we like for dinner."

Sarah smiled, settling back into her seat. "Sounds like a plan."


Sarah leaned over the kitchen island, tracing the blue line on her phone's map app. "If we take I-95, we'll hit Hartford traffic," she said, pausing to sip her coffee. "Route 9 is only twenty minutes longer and much prettier."

Mark closed the cooler with a soft thud. "Route 9 it is. Did you grab the trail mix? I put the sparkling waters in already."

"Got it. I threw in the cheddar popcorn, too. And I packed your gray fleece. The forecast says it’ll drop into the low fifties tonight up by the lake."

"Perfect," Mark said. He grabbed the cooler by its side handles, hauling it toward the hallway. They were only heading up to the Berkshires for a two-night stay, but the small mountain of bags by the entryway suggested a much longer expedition. Sarah followed behind him, juggling her canvas tote bag and two insulated travel mugs.

Outside, the crisp Saturday morning air smelled of dew and damp asphalt. Mark popped the trunk of their Honda CR-V, shifting a stray umbrella to


Sarah tossed a pair of jeans onto the growing pile on the bed. "Are you sure it’s only going to drop to the fifties?" she asked, smoothing out a wrinkle in her favorite sweater.

Mark leaned against the doorframe, his thumb scrolling idly through his phone. "That’s what the weather app says. Fifties at night, high sixties during the day. You won't need the heavy winter coat, just bring your fleece."

"Fine, but if I freeze on the hiking trail, I'm wearing yours," she joked, finally zipping her green duffel bag shut. "What time are we actually leaving tomorrow? And don't say six."

"I was going to say seven," Mark laughed, stepping into the bedroom to grab his own backpack from the closet. "If we hit Interstate 95 by eight, we'll bypass the worst of the weekend traffic and make it to the bed and breakfast by noon."

Sarah weighed the idea, glancing at the alarm clock on her nightstand. "Okay, seven-thirty. But only if I get to queue up the car playlist, and we stop at that drive-thru place on Main Street for breakfast sandwiches."

"Deal," Mark said. "I'll take these bags down and load the trunk tonight so we can just grab the cooler in the morning."

By seven-forty-five the next morning, the crisp autumn air had finally spurred them into motion. Mark slammed the trunk of their sedan closed, double-checking his pockets for his sunglasses. Sarah emerged from the front porch, locking the deadbolt and carrying two steaming travel mugs.

"One black, one with an unreasonable amount of oat milk," she announced, passing him the silver mug.

Mark took a cautious sip, grateful for the warmth. "Perfect. You ready?"

"Ready," Sarah said, settling into the passenger seat. Mark put the car in drive, and they pulled out of the driveway, turning onto the quiet suburban street toward the highway.


Mark scrolled through the weather app on his phone while Sarah folded the last of the laundry on the living room floor.

"It’s going to drop down to the low forties at night up in the Catskills," Mark said, leaning back against the couch cushions. "I’ll grab our heavier fleece jackets from the hall closet."

"Good idea," Sarah replied, tossing a paired set of socks into the basket. "Should we aim to leave by three tomorrow afternoon? If we wait until five, we’ll hit terrible outbound traffic on the bridge."

"Three works perfectly. I can finish up my Friday reports during my lunch hour," Mark agreed. "Did you end up booking that Italian place for dinner tomorrow night, or are we just going to wing it?"

"I made a reservation for seven-thirty. I figured we’d be exhausted from driving and wouldn't want to make any more decisions once we get to the Airbnb."

The next afternoon, the trunk of their Honda CR-V was neatly packed with two canvas duffel bags, a reusable grocery tote stuffed with road trip snacks, and Sarah’s bulky camera case.

Standing by the front door, Sarah paused with her hand on the knob. "Thermostat is set to sixty-five, coffee maker is unplugged, and I double-checked the lock on the back door. Did you take out the kitchen trash?"

"Took it out to the garage bin," Mark confirmed, adjusting his sunglasses. "Ready?"

"Ready."

They stepped out into the


"It says it’s going to drop to the low forties at night," Mark said, peering over his glasses at his phone screen. He stood in the doorway of their bedroom, watching Sarah fold a stack of sweaters. "Did you pack the heavy fleece?"

"Already in the green duffel," Sarah replied, tossing a pair of thick wool socks on top of the pile. "What about the snacks? I really don’t want to rely on stale gas station food on I-81."

Mark nodded, turning toward the hallway. "I bagged up the trail mix and those white cheddar crackers you like. Should I prep the small cooler for turkey sandwiches?"

"Maybe just make two for the drive up," Sarah called out, zipping the bag shut. "We can grab a late dinner at that pub near the cabin once we check in."

The next morning, the entryway was a minor obstacle course of canvas bags and jackets. Mark carried the cooler out to the Subaru, his breath briefly visible in the crisp October air. Inside the house, Sarah completed their usual departure sweep: verifying the stove was off, turning the thermostat down to sixty-two degrees, and double-locking the back patio door.

"Got the travel mugs?" Mark asked as she finally climbed into the passenger seat and pulled her seatbelt across her chest.

She held up two steaming stainless-steel cups. "Dark roast black for you, splash of oat milk for me."

Mark smiled, shifting the car into reverse. The driveway gravel crunched under the tires as they pulled out onto their quiet suburban street. On the dashboard, the GPS illuminated, estimating a three-hour drive to the Shenandoah Valley. Sarah adjusted the heater vents and pulled up Spotify on her phone.

"True crime podcast or the weekend playlist


Mark zipped his duffel bag and set it by the front door, glancing at his watch. It was barely five, but the late autumn sun was already dipping below the suburban rooflines.

"Did you remember the phone chargers?" Sarah called from the kitchen. The refrigerator door thumped shut. "I'm tossing the rest of the strawberries. They're already looking sad."

"Chargers are in the blue backpack," Mark said, walking into the kitchen to grab his travel mug. "Don't toss them, I'll eat them in the car."

Sarah handed him the plastic container with a skeptical raised eyebrow. "Suit yourself. I set the thermostat to sixty-two. Are we taking I-95 or the back roads?"

"I-95 to get out of the city, then we can cut over to Route 1. I'll drive the first shift if you want to navigate."

"Deal," Sarah said, slipping into her denim jacket and grabbing her tote bag. "But I get control of the Spotify playlist until we hit the state line."

"As long as it's not that true crime podcast again. I actually want to sleep tonight."

They locked the front door, testing the knob twice—a silent, shared habit born of years living together. The crisp October air smelled of woodsmoke and crushed pine needles as they loaded the bags into the trunk of their Honda.

Sarah slid into the passenger seat and immediately plugged in her phone, pulling up her downloaded playlists. Mark started the engine, the heater clicking on with a low hum. He backed out of the driveway, waiting for a passing delivery truck, before putting the car in drive.

"Ready for two days of absolutely nothing?" Mark asked, resting a hand on the center console.

Sarah intertwined her fingers with his. "More than ready."


Sarah zipped her canvas duffel bag and hauled it to the front hallway, adding it to the modest pile of weekend gear. "Did you grab the cooler?" she called toward the kitchen.

Mark appeared in the doorway, two travel mugs of coffee balanced precariously in one hand and their battered blue Coleman cooler swinging from the other. "Got it. I also threw in those leftover turkey sandwiches. Figured we might not want to stop for lunch once we get past Columbus."

"Good call," Sarah said, accepting a mug. The warm ceramic felt good against her palms. It was a crisp October morning, perfect for a quiet two days at Hocking Hills. "Did you check the traffic on Interstate 71?"

"Yeah, the app says there's a little backup near the construction zone, but nothing crazy. We should still make it to the rental cabin by two." Mark set the cooler down and patted his jacket pockets. "Wallet, keys, phone. I think I'm good. Did you set the thermostat?"

"Down to sixty-two," she confirmed.

Together, they carried the bags out to the driveway. The Subaru’s hatchback swallowed their luggage with room to spare. Mark wedged the cooler behind the passenger seat to keep it accessible, while Sarah double-checked the front door lock and pulled it shut.

Once settled in the driver's seat, Mark started the engine and watched his phone connect to the car's screen. "Audiobook or podcast?" he asked, shifting into reverse.

"Let's finish that true crime podcast," Sarah said, clicking her seatbelt into place. "I need to know if the husband actually did it."

Mark laughed, glancing over his shoulder as he backed out of the driveway. "Spoiler alert: it's always the husband."

Sarah smiled, taking a sip of her dark roast as they rolled past their neighbors' manicured lawns and turned onto the main road, ready to leave the work week behind them.


Sarah zipped her canvas duffel bag closed and set it by the front door, next to the small plastic cooler. In the kitchen, Mark was staring into the open refrigerator, a half-gallon of milk in his hand.

"Should I dump this?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder. "It expires on Sunday."

"Yeah, go ahead," Sarah said, checking her phone for the weekend weather forecast in the Shenandoah Valley. "And grab the rest of those apples for the drive. It’s supposed to drop into the forties tonight, by the way, so I hope you packed your heavy fleece."

"Way ahead of you," Mark said. He rinsed the plastic jug in the sink, tossed it into the recycling bin, and corralled the apples into a tote bag. He walked over to the door, hoisting the cooler by its side handles. "Are we taking your car or mine?"

"Let's take the Subaru," Sarah said, slipping her arms into her denim jacket. "I filled the tank on the way home from work."

They carried their gear out to the driveway. The late Friday afternoon air was crisp, hinting at the autumn weekend ahead. Mark loaded the bags into the trunk while Sarah settled into the passenger seat, immediately plugging her phone into the dashboard to queue up a podcast they had agreed on earlier.

Mark slid behind the wheel and adjusted the rearview mirror. "I-66 westbound is going to be crawling right now," he noted, looking at the glowing red line on the GPS screen.

"That's fine. Let's just take the local route through Middleburg," Sarah suggested, handing him a travel mug of coffee. "We're in no rush."

Mark put the car in reverse, taking a careful sip of the hot coffee. As they backed out of the driveway, the familiar, quiet anticipation of a weekend away finally settled over them.


Sarah zipped the canvas duffel bag shut, giving it a final pat. "Did you pack the phone chargers, or should I?" she called toward the kitchen.

Mark appeared in the hallway, balancing two insulated travel mugs and a tangled cluster of white cords. "Got them," he said, dropping the cords onto the armchair. "And I made coffee. We're going to need it if we want to beat the late-morning traffic on I-5."

It was Saturday morning, and they were finally taking a two-day trip to the Oregon coast. The planning over the past week had been predictably mundane: negotiating who would feed their aging tabby cat—their neighbor, Mrs. Higgins, had eventually agreed—and debating whether to pay extra for a hotel room with an ocean view. They had compromised on a cheaper room, but promised themselves a nice seafood dinner with the money they saved.

Mark carried the duffel out to the Honda, the crisp morning air biting through his fleece jacket. Sarah followed with a canvas tote of road snacks and locked the front door, double-checking the deadbolt out of habit.

Once they were settled in the car, Mark plugged his phone into the dashboard. The navigation app illuminated the screen with a bright blue line. "It says two hours and forty minutes if we take the main highway, but there's a fifteen-minute delay near Portland. We could take the scenic route through the state forest instead. It adds about twenty minutes."

Sarah blew softly on her coffee before taking a careful sip. "Let’s do the forest," she decided, adjusting the passenger seat back a few inches. "We’re in no rush, and I'd rather look at pine trees than brake lights."

"Scenic route it is," Mark said. He shifted the car into reverse, tires crunching softly on the pavement, and steered them toward the open road.


Sarah stood in the kitchen, staring into the open refrigerator. "Do you think we need to bring the milk?" she called out. "It expires on Monday."

Mark walked in, tossing his duffel bag onto the entryway bench. "Just dump it. We’re only going to the cabin for two nights, and I’d rather just buy a small carton in Front Royal if we end up needing it for coffee."

"Fair enough," Sarah said, pouring the remaining milk down the sink. She rinsed the plastic jug and dropped it into the recycling bin. "Did you pack the dog's food?"

"Buster’s stuff is already in the trunk," Mark replied, grabbing his sunglasses from the counter. He paused, looking at the hallway thermostat. "Should I set this down to sixty-two?"

"Better make it sixty-five. It’s supposed to freeze tonight, and I don't want to worry about the pipes."

Mark adjusted the dial. It was a familiar Friday evening routine for them—the slightly frantic, logistical transition between the long workweek and a weekend getaway. They had rented a small, pet-friendly cabin in the Shenandoah Valley, hoping to catch the very last of the autumn foliage.

Sarah zipped up her canvas weekender bag and slung it over her shoulder. Mark grabbed the small cooler they’d packed earlier with turkey sandwiches, honeycrisp apples, and a six-pack of pale ale.

"Alright, got the cooler," Mark said, balancing it against his hip. "Phone chargers?"

"In my purse," Sarah confirmed. She whistled, and Buster trotted out from the living room, his tail thumping against the wall at the sight of the open front door.

They walked out into the crisp November air. Mark loaded the final bags into the back of their Subaru while Sarah double-checked the deadbolt. As she climbed into the passenger seat, she let out a long, contented exhale.

"Ready?" Mark asked, starting the engine.

"So ready," Sarah smiled, reaching over to turn up the heater.


Sarah zipped her canvas duffel bag shut and carried it down the stairs. "Did you remember the phone chargers?" she called out.

Mark emerged from the kitchen, holding two travel mugs and his own overnight bag. "Got them in the center console," he said, handing her a steaming mug of coffee. "I also packed a small cooler with the leftover turkey sandwiches. I figured we can eat them when we get to the Airbnb instead of stopping at a drive-thru."

Sarah took a sip, grateful for the caffeine. "Perfect. Did you set the thermostat?"

"Down to sixty-two," Mark confirmed, setting his bags by the front door. He pulled out his phone. "If we take Interstate 95, Google Maps says we’ll hit rush hour traffic right outside of New Haven. We could take the state highways instead. It adds twenty minutes to the drive, but at least we'll keep moving."

"Let's do the state highways," Sarah agreed, slipping on her sneakers. "I can't stand sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic on a Friday evening."

They worked in tandem, moving through a practiced routine built over five years of marriage. Mark carried the bags out and loaded them into the trunk of their Subaru while Sarah did a final sweep of the house—checking the stove knobs, locking the deadbolt on the back door, and leaving a single lamp on in the living room.

The autumn air was crisp as they met in the driveway. Mark clicked the trunk shut and climbed into the driver’s seat. Sarah slid into the passenger side, already pulling up the alternate route on her phone.

"Ready?" Mark asked, shifting the car into reverse.

"Ready," Sarah said, buckling her seatbelt with a long exhale. "I'm so ready to just look at the ocean and do absolutely nothing."

Mark smiled, pulling out of the driveway and turning down their quiet suburban street. The headlights cut through the fading dusk, and their weekend finally began.


Mark folded a pair of jeans, pressing them into the corner of his canvas weekender bag. "Do you think I need the heavy jacket?" he called out to the hallway.

Sarah appeared in the bedroom doorway, balancing two travel mugs and a tangled phone charger. "It's October in the Hudson Valley, Mark. Yes, bring the heavy jacket. The Airbnb host said it drops into the forties at night."

"Fair enough," he muttered, swapping a light fleece for his wool coat.

They were finally taking a two-night trip to Beacon, their first weekend away since the spring. The planning had been decidedly unglamorous—syncing Outlook calendars, finding a rental that allowed late check-ins, and debating whether they should board the dog or ask the neighbor to watch him. (They chose the kennel, and Buster had been safely dropped off an hour ago).

Sarah tossed the charger onto the bed. "I packed the trail mix and those apples from last week so they don't go bad. Did you grab the EZ-Pass from the other car?"

Mark paused, his hand hovering over the zipper of his bag. "Good catch. I’ll get it right now."

Ten minutes later, the luggage was slotted into the trunk of their Honda CR-V. Sarah did her customary lap around the first floor, ensuring the stove was off and the thermostat was bumped down to sixty-two degrees. She locked the front door, jiggling the deadbolt twice before walking down the driveway.

Mark was already in the driver’s seat, the engine humming. As Sarah clicked her seatbelt into place, he handed her one of the travel mugs.

"Coffee's still hot," he said, shifting into reverse. "You want to queue up that true crime podcast, or are we doing music?"

"Let's start with music," Sarah sighed, taking a sip as they backed out into the quiet suburban street. "Just for the first hour. I need to leave work behind before we get to the murders."

Mark chuckled, turning the wheel toward the highway.


Mark stared at the open fridge, mentally calculating if the half-empty gallon of milk would spoil by Sunday night. "I'm pouring the milk down the drain," he called out to the hallway.

Sarah walked into the kitchen, hoisting a stuffed canvas duffel bag over her shoulder. "Good call. Did you grab the small cooler? We still need to stop for ice if we're bringing the leftover pasta."

"Cooler is already in the trunk," Mark said, rinsing the plastic jug and tossing it into the recycling bin. He scooped his keys off the kitchen island. "Do you want to drive first, or should I?"

"I'll drive," Sarah said, fishing her sunglasses out of her purse. "Traffic on I-95 is going to be a nightmare right now, and you get too stressed with the stop-and-go."

Mark chuckled, not disagreeing. They were heading three hours north to a small rented cabin in the Catskills, hoping to catch the last of the autumn foliage. It was a modest, hastily planned weekend getaway, but after a month of grueling project deadlines at both their jobs, it felt like a luxury vacation.

While Sarah paused in the hallway to adjust the thermostat down to sixty degrees, Mark did a final sweep of the living room and kitchen—double-checking the deadbolts, ensuring the coffee pot was unplugged, and setting the front porch light on a timer.

They met in the garage. Sarah tossed her bag into the backseat of their Subaru and slid behind the wheel. Mark climbed in beside her, immediately plugging his phone into the dashboard console to pull up the navigation.

"Estimated time of arrival is eight-forty," Mark announced. "If we skip the diner and just do a drive-thru, we can be there by eight."

"Drive-thru it is," Sarah agreed, shifting the car into reverse. "Let's just get out of here."


The open suitcase lay on the bed, half-filled with sweaters and thick socks. Mark stood over it, holding a navy-blue rain jacket. "Do you think we need the heavy winter coats for the cabin, or just the rain shells?" he asked, tossing the waterproof jacket onto the pile.

Sarah walked in from the bathroom, zipping up her canvas toiletry bag. "Just the shells should be fine. The forecast said it might drop to the upper forties at night, but we’ll have the fireplace." She dropped her bag into the suitcase and helped him press the lid shut. "Did you remember to pack the coffee?"

"French roast. It's already in the tote bag by the door," Mark said, wheeling the suitcase out to the hallway.

Living just outside Seattle, a quick weekend escape to the Olympic Peninsula was their favorite way to reset. It was Friday at five-thirty, and the typical rush hour traffic awaited them, but neither minded the drive.

Downstairs, they moved through their familiar departure routine. Mark double-checked the deadbolt on the back door and lowered the hallway thermostat to sixty degrees. Sarah tied off the kitchen trash bag and did a final sweep of the counters to ensure no perishable food was left out.

"Got the keys?" Sarah asked, shrugging on her fleece as she stepped out into the crisp autumn air.

"Got them," Mark confirmed, pressing the fob to pop the SUV’s trunk. He hoisted the suitcase and the grocery tote into the back, shutting it with a solid thud.

Sarah climbed into the passenger seat and immediately pulled up their favorite road-trip playlist. As Mark backed out of the driveway, acoustic guitar filled the car. He reached over, briefly squeezing her hand.

"Ready?" he asked, glancing at the GPS routing them toward the ferry.

"So ready," she smiled, watching their neighborhood fade into the rearview mirror.


The kitchen island was covered in canvas tote bags and a small plastic cooler. Mark zipped up the canvas duffel, double-checking the side pocket. "I grabbed the spare phone chargers," he said, looking up at his wife. "Did we decide if we're taking the toll road or the scenic route?"

Sarah paused her tapping on the home security app. "Let's take the Interstate until we get out of the suburbs, then switch to Route 7. I don't want to sit in bumper-to-bumper Friday traffic just to look at a few trees." She tossed a bag of pretzels into the snack tote. "Thermostat is set to sixty-two. Did you take out the recycling?"

"Took it out this morning," Mark replied, hoisting the cooler by its plastic handles. "Alright, I'll load these into the trunk. You grab the water bottles?"

Ten minutes later, they were in the driveway, the brisk autumn air biting at their jackets. Mark adjusted the driver's seat of their Honda CR-V while Sarah plugged her phone into the dashboard, immediately pulling up their shared map.

"Wait, did you lock the back porch door?" Mark asked, his hand hovering over the gear shift.

Sarah sighed, unbuckling her seatbelt. "I'm ninety percent sure, but now I have to check." She jogged back up the front steps, disappearing inside for a few seconds before returning with a thumbs-up.

Once she was settled again, Mark pulled out of the driveway and navigated toward the highway on-ramp. The glowing dashboard clock read 5:42 PM. They had a three-hour drive to the rental cabin, just enough time to properly decompress from the workweek.

"Okay," Sarah said, handing him a travel mug of coffee. "True crime podcast first, or music?"

"Music until we hit the state line," Mark decided, merging smoothly onto the highway. "Then we can do murder."


Sarah stood at the kitchen island, tapping her pen against the back of an old utility bill envelope. "Did you grab the small cooler from the basement?" she called out, glancing at the half-empty fridge.

Mark appeared in the hallway, juggling a bulging canvas duffel bag and a pair of mud-caked hiking boots. "Got it. I already put it in the trunk along with the grocery bags. Did we decide on making sandwiches for lunch tomorrow, or are we stopping at that diner in town?"

"Let's just pack the turkey and bread," Sarah said, crossing the final item off her haphazard list. "That way we don't have to cut the trail hike short if we get hungry."

She folded the paper and stuffed it into her tote bag. It was Friday evening, and the drive up to the Blue Ridge Mountains would take just under three hours. If traffic leaving the suburbs wasn't a total nightmare, they’d arrive at the rental cabin just before dark.

"Good call," Mark said. He dropped the boots by the front door and jingled his car keys. "You want to drive first, or should I?"

"I'll navigate," Sarah volunteered, filling her travel mug with the last of the morning's coffee and popping it into the microwave. "I'm still exhausted from my afternoon meetings."

They performed their standard departure sweep together—locking the downstairs windows, making sure the thermostat was turned down to sixty-five, and verifying the back patio door was bolted tight. Satisfied, they stepped out into the crisp


The trunk of the Subaru closed with a solid thud.

"Okay, that's both duffel bags, the cooler, and the hiking boots," David said, wiping a stray drop of rain from his forehead. "Did you grab the EZ-Pass?"

Maya appeared in the doorway of their Maryland townhouse, juggling her purse and two steel travel mugs. "It’s already clipped to the visor. And I made coffee." She locked the front door, jiggling the deadbolt twice—a habit David found both endearing and mildly neurotic—before stepping out into the damp driveway and handing him a mug.

"Perfect," David said, taking a cautious sip. "Are we taking the interstate or the back roads?"

Maya slid into the passenger seat and pulled up the GPS on her phone. "Traffic on 270 is a complete mess right now. Let’s take the scenic route through Leesburg. It adds twenty minutes, but at least we won't be staring at red taillights all the way to Shenandoah."

"Scenic route it is," David agreed, starting the engine. He adjusted his rearview mirror. "Did you remember to set the thermostat?"

"Set to seventy-four, and the neighbor has the spare key to feed the cat," Maya said, checking off invisible boxes in the air. "We are officially off duty until Sunday night."

They pulled out of their subdivision, leaving the glow of the suburban streetlights behind. The rain had slowed to a light drizzle, and the steady rhythm of the windshield wipers filled the quiet space between them. Maya synced her phone to the car's Bluetooth, pulling up the mellow acoustic playlist they always used for road trips.

"So," David asked, glancing at her as they merged onto the main road. "Do we want to stop for dinner on the way, or just eat the sandwiches in the cooler when we get to the cabin?"

"Let's eat when we get there," Maya said, kicking her shoes off and leaning her seat back. "I just want to arrive."


"Did you pack the phone chargers?" Sarah asked, leaning over the kitchen island to zip her canvas duffel bag.

Mark took a sip of his coffee and nodded. "Got the long one for the Airbnb and the dual charger for the car. Did you remember to leave the extra key for Mrs. Gable?"

"Under the mat. She’s going to feed Buster twice a day." Sarah glanced at the orange tabby asleep on the sofa, feeling the usual pang of minor guilt before a weekend away.

It was Saturday morning, and their long-awaited overnight trip to Asheville was finally happening. Between Mark’s erratic shifts at the clinic and Sarah’s demanding project deadlines, a two-day escape was exactly what they needed.

Mark grabbed his fleece jacket from the back of the chair. "I mapped the route. If we take I-40, we'll hit some heavy construction near Hickory. I'm thinking we take the state highways. It adds twenty minutes, but we can stop at that diner you like."

"The one with the giant fiberglass rooster?" Sarah smiled, sliding her sunglasses onto her head. "Perfect. I'm already thinking about those blueberry pancakes."

They carried their bags out to the driveway. The crisp October air held a slight chill, promising perfect hiking weather in the mountains. Mark popped the trunk of their Honda, arranging the duffels to leave room for the small cooler he’d packed with water and snacks. Sarah climbed into the passenger seat, immediately plugging her phone into the console.

"Podcast or playlist?" she asked as Mark settled behind the wheel and started the engine.

"Playlist," Mark said, adjusting the rearview mirror. "We need something upbeat to get us out of the suburbs."

Sarah tapped play, and as a familiar guitar riff filled the car, Mark backed out of the driveway, the weekend finally theirs.


The battered suitcase lay open on the foot of the bed.

"Did you check the forecast for Galena?" Mark asked, tossing a pair of rolled-up jeans into the main compartment.

Sarah looked up from her phone, swiping down on her weather app. "Highs in the low sixties, but it drops to forty at night. Bring the gray fleece."

"The bulky one?"

"Yes, the bulky one. We're going to be walking around Main Street after dinner," she said, pulling two sweaters from her drawer and folding them neatly next to his jeans. "I'll pack the toiletries bag. Did you grab the travel toothpaste?"

"Got it yesterday," Mark confirmed, walking out to the kitchen. "I’m putting the snack bag together for the drive. Apples, some cheddar cheese, and those pretzels from Trader Joe's?"

"Perfect," Sarah called back. "And fill the water bottles, please!"

By Friday at four o'clock, the anticipation of the weekend had entirely replaced their work-week fatigue. Mark carried the suitcase down the front steps of their duplex, the crisp autumn breeze a welcome change from the stuffy apartment. He popped the trunk of their Honda and nestled the luggage beside the tote bag of snacks.

Inside, Sarah did the final sweep. She unplugged the coffee maker, checked that the thermostat was dialed down to sixty-two, and made sure the back door was deadbolted. She grabbed her sunglasses from the entryway table and locked the front door behind her, pulling twice on the handle just to be sure.

When she slid into the passenger seat, Mark already had the GPS queued up on the dashboard. "Two hours and forty minutes, assuming we beat the worst of the I-90 traffic," he said, shifting into drive.

"Fingers crossed," Sarah smiled, adjusting the air vents. "Play the road trip playlist?"

"Already on it."


Sarah folded the last of her heavy sweaters and pressed them into the canvas duffel bag. "Did you check the weather in Asheville?" she called over her shoulder.

Mark walked into the bedroom, juggling two steaming travel mugs and a tangle of phone chargers. "Yeah, it’s supposed to drop into the low fifties tonight. I threw my heavy fleece in the trunk, but you might want to grab an extra scarf."

"Good call," she said, wrestling the bag's zipper closed.

It was Saturday morning, and their apartment was in its usual pre-trip state of mild disarray. They had booked a small mountain cabin for a three-day weekend, both of them desperate for a brief escape from their screen-heavy desk jobs.

"Do we need to stop at Trader Joe's before we hit the highway?" Mark asked, setting the coffee and chargers on the nightstand. "I packed the cooler with the leftover turkey and some cheese, but we don't really have anything for breakfast tomorrow."

Sarah thought for a moment, slipping on her sneakers. "Let's just stop at the grocery store once we get closer to the cabin. I don't want to deal with city traffic right now."

"Works for me." Mark grabbed the overstuffed duffel bag by its sturdy handles. "I'll load this up. You grab the road snacks and make sure the back door is locked?"

Ten minutes later, they were settled into the front seats of their Honda. The comforting smell of dark roast coffee filled the car. Sarah tapped the cabin's address into her phone's GPS, squinting at the map.

"It says Interstate 40 is backed up near Hickory," she noted. "We can take the scenic route, but it adds twenty minutes."

Mark backed out of the driveway, glancing in the rearview mirror. "We're on vacation, we're not in a rush," he said, shifting into drive. "Put on that history podcast, and let's take the long way."


Mark stood in the hallway, holding a faded red cooler and a pair of hiking boots. "Do you think we need the heavy jackets for Astoria? The forecast said mid-sixties."

Sarah looked up from her phone, seated at the kitchen island surrounded by half-filled canvas tote bags. "It’s the Oregon coast in October, Mark. Bring the jackets. Better to have them and not need them."

He nodded, dropping the boots by the front door. "Fair enough. Did you pack the good coffee, or should we just stop somewhere on the way?"

"I packed the French roast," she said, zipping the largest tote. "But let’s stop at that drive-thru in Portland anyway. I’m not waiting two hours for caffeine."

The next morning, the gray light of dawn crept through the living room windows as they carried their bags out to the Subaru. The air was crisp, carrying the familiar scent of damp pine needles. Mark loaded the trunk, playing a brief game of Tetris with the cooler and Sarah’s weekend bag, while she set up the GPS on the dashboard.

"Route 26 is clear right now," Sarah announced, buckling her seatbelt and taking a sip from her insulated travel mug. "If we leave now, we should beat the weekend traffic and get to the rental cabin by ten."

Mark shut the trunk with a solid thud and slid into the driver’s seat. He adjusted the rearview mirror, glancing at his wife with a tired but genuine smile. "Alright. Podcasts or a playlist?"

"Playlist first," Sarah decided, pulling up an app on her phone. "We can switch to the true crime podcast when the coffee kicks in."

"Perfect," Mark said. He shifted the car into drive and pulled out of the driveway, settling in for the quiet weekend ahead.


The open trunk of the Subaru swallowed the last canvas duffel bag. Mark slammed the hatch shut, wiping a smear of spring pollen off his jeans. "Did you grab the cooler?" he called toward the open front door.

Sarah appeared on the porch, a small cooler swinging against her leg and a travel mug in her other hand. "I did. Though I had to sacrifice the leftover lasagna to make the ice packs fit."

"A necessary casualty," Mark said, taking the cooler and wedging it behind the passenger seat. "We're going to eat entirely too much barbecue this weekend anyway."

They were heading to a rented cabin in the Blue Ridge Mountains, just a three-hour drive from their townhouse in Charlotte. It was their first weekend away since the holidays, and the exhaustion of a long work week lingered in the humid Friday afternoon air.

Sarah slid into the passenger seat and adjusted the AC vent to point directly at her face. "Okay, I turned the thermostat up to seventy-four, locked the back door, and set the alarm. Did you remember the phone chargers?"

Mark paused, his hand hovering over the ignition button. "I packed the long cord. I think." He twisted around, unzipped the front pocket of his backpack, and fished out the familiar white cable. "Yep. We are officially ready."

"Thank God," Sarah sighed, sinking back into the headrest. She pulled up the GPS on the center console display. "The interstate is red with traffic. We should take the back way through Hickory."

"Back way it is. Want to stop at the drive-thru for iced coffees before we get out of town?"

"Only if I can get a pastry, too."

Mark smiled, shifting the car into reverse. "It's vacation. Pastries are mandatory."


"Forecast says low forties on Saturday," Mark said, peering over his laptop from the kitchen island. "Are you bringing the heavy puffer coat or just the fleece?"

Sarah paused loading the dishwasher to consider. "I’ll pack the fleece and layer up. It fits better in the weekender bag anyway. Did you finally confirm the dog sitter?"

"Texted her this morning. Mrs. Gable is coming by at noon tomorrow to grab Buster." Mark shut his laptop. "Should we stop at Trader Joe’s on the way out of town, or hit a local grocery store closer to the cabin?"

"Let's grab the essentials here," Sarah decided, wiping down the quartz counter. "Coffee, wine, road snacks. We can get the actual dinner ingredients near the lake so we don't have to keep a cooler cold for three hours in the trunk."

By Friday at four, their silver Subaru was idling in the suburban driveway. Mark hoisted their two canvas duffel bags into the trunk, rearranging them to make room for the grocery tote.

"Did you check the back door?" Sarah called out from the front passenger seat, adjusting the climate control to her liking.

"Locked and deadbolted," Mark replied, shutting the trunk with a solid thud. He slid into the driver’s seat, buckled his seatbelt, and tapped the dashboard GPS screen. "Okay, ETA is seven-fifteen if we take the turnpike. You want the Spotify playlist, or should I put on that true-crime podcast we started last week?"

"Podcast," Sarah said, handing him a battered travel mug filled with hot coffee. "But let’s skip the first few minutes; it’s all ads. Oh, and take the


Elena pressed her knee into the overstuffed canvas duffel bag, finally wrestling the zipper closed with a quiet grunt. "Are you sure we need two extra blankets?" she called toward the kitchen.

Mark appeared in the hallway, holding two empty travel mugs. "It drops into the forties near the lake at night," he said. "Plus, the Airbnb reviews said the cabin's heater is notoriously finicky. Did you grab the phone chargers?"

"In the front pocket," she said. "Wait, why are the mugs empty?"

"I figured we'd hit the drive-thru near the interstate," Mark explained, jingling the car keys. "Unless you want me to brew a pot now? The GPS says if we leave in the next ten minutes, we can miss the worst of the I-94 construction traffic."

Elena slung the heavy duffel over her shoulder. "No, drive-thru is fine. I'm craving a breakfast sandwich anyway. Let's just get on the road."

They walked out into the crisp Saturday morning air of their Chicago suburb. Mark popped the trunk of their Subaru, meticulously rearranging a small cooler of groceries to make room for Elena’s bag. He had a habit of treating car packing like a high-stakes game of Tetris—a quirk Elena usually found endearing, though today she just wanted to get moving.

"Okay," Mark said, pushing the hatch shut. "Everything is secure. I’ve got the podcasts downloaded and the route pulled up."

Elena climbed into the passenger seat and pulled down the visor to adjust her sunglasses. "Did you lock the back patio door?"

Mark paused, hand on the ignition, then sighed and unbuckled his seatbelt. "Be right back."

Elena smiled to herself, plugging her phone into the dashboard. Ten minutes later, coffees in hand and the house properly secured, they merged onto the highway, leaving the work week behind them.


Saturday morning sunlight filtered through the blinds of their suburban home, signaling the start of a much-needed weekend out of town. In the master bedroom, David zipped up his canvas duffel bag, double-checking that he had packed his hiking boots. Across the hall, Elena was in the bathroom, tossing her toiletries into


Friday evening brought a flurry of purposeful chaos to David and Elena’s split-level home in Ohio. After weeks of opposite work schedules, their long-awaited two-day getaway to Hocking Hills had finally arrived.

"Did you grab the phone chargers?" Elena called out from the hallway, wrestling the zipper of their shared navy duffel bag closed.

"Got them," David replied, emerging from the kitchen with a heavily packed cooler. "And I packed the leftover turkey sandwiches and the good coffee. We are not drinking that motel sludge again."

Elena laughed, grabbing her denim jacket from the coat rack. While she did a final sweep of the upstairs—unplugging her curling iron, adjusting the thermostat down to sixty-two degrees, and making sure the bedroom windows were locked—David managed the logistics downstairs. He carried the bags out to the driveway, loading them into the trunk of their Subaru with practiced efficiency.

Once the car was packed, David jogged back up the front steps to meet Elena at the door. "Trash is out, dishwasher is running," he reported, pulling the front door shut and testing the deadbolt twice.

"Perfect," Elena said, slipping into the passenger seat as David took the wheel. She pulled up the GPS on her phone, typing in the address of their rented cabin. The route glowed blue on the screen, a two-hour stretch of highway separating them from a weekend of hiking and uninterrupted quiet.

David put the car in reverse, backing out of the driveway as the autumn sun began to dip below the neighborhood tree line. He reached over the center console, briefly squeezing Elena’s hand.

"Ready?" he asked.

"So ready," she smiled. With the house secured and their bags packed, they turned onto the main road, leaving the week behind them.


The morning sun filtered through the blinds of their suburban Ohio home as Mark zipped up the canvas duffel bag. "Did you grab the phone chargers?" he called out, hoisting the bag off the edge of the bed.

Sarah appeared in the bedroom doorway, two insulated travel mugs in hand, steam rising from the lids. "Packed them in the front pocket of my backpack," she said, handing him his coffee. "I’ve got the trail map and the road snacks, too."

It was Friday morning, and they were finally embarking on a long-overdue, two-day getaway to a secluded cabin in the Hocking Hills. The house was a flurry of practiced, coordinated movement. While Mark carried the luggage out to the driveway and loaded it into the trunk of their SUV, Sarah performed the final sweep of the house. She lowered the thermostat, double-checked that the coffee maker was unplugged, and made sure the back patio door was deadbolted.

"All clear?" Mark asked as she stepped out the front door, locking it firmly behind her.

"All clear," Sarah confirmed, pulling her sunglasses down over her eyes. She walked around to the passenger side, pausing to toss her backpack onto the backseat before sliding into the cabin.

Mark started the engine, the familiar hum breaking the quiet of their neighborhood. He checked his mirrors, adjusted the volume on their favorite acoustic playlist, and glanced over at his wife. "Ready for a weekend of absolutely no chores?"

Sarah laughed, taking a sip of her hot coffee. "More than ready. Let's go."

With a gentle press of the accelerator, Mark backed out of the driveway. As they navigated out of their subdivision and merged onto the interstate, the stress of their workweek began to fade, replaced by the open road and the promise of two uninterrupted days together.


Mark zipped his canvas duffel bag, giving the fabric a final, satisfying tug. "Did you grab the phone chargers?" he called out, glancing around their sunlit bedroom.

"Got them," Sarah replied, emerging from the master bathroom with her toiletry bag tucked under her arm. "And I packed the sunscreen, just in case the coastal forecast actually holds up."

It was Friday afternoon, and their highly anticipated two-day getaway was finally here. They moved through their suburban Ohio home with the practiced rhythm of a couple who had done this a dozen times before. While Mark carried the luggage down the hallway, Sarah completed the final walk-through. She bumped the thermostat down a few degrees, made sure the coffee maker was switched off, and gave their golden retriever, Barnaby, a lingering scratch behind the ears. The neighbor was coming over to pet-sit in an hour, but saying goodbye was always the hardest part.

Out in the driveway, Mark popped the trunk of their Subaru. He arranged the bags efficiently, leaving just enough room for the small cooler Sarah was carrying out the front door.

"Did you lock the back patio?" Mark asked, taking the cooler and wedging it securely beside his duffel.

Sarah paused, her hand resting on the passenger door. "Yes. But let me double-check the front deadbolt." She jogged back up the porch steps, rattled the brass handle to ensure it was secure, and gave Mark a thumbs-up.

Settling into the driver’s seat, Mark started the engine. Sarah slid in next to him, immediately plugging her phone into the center console to queue up their favorite road-trip playlist. She handed Mark a travel mug of fresh coffee.

"Ready?" he asked, shifting the car into reverse.

"More than ready," Sarah smiled, as they backed out of the driveway and headed toward the open highway.


Mark zipped his duffel bag with a satisfying finality and tossed it onto the edge of the bed. Beside him, Sarah was still deliberating over her footwear.

"Do you think I need the heavy hiking boots, or just the sneakers?" she asked, holding up a scuffed pair of Merrells.

"We're only going to the Berkshires for two days," Mark chuckled, grabbing his toiletry kit from the adjoining bathroom. "But bring them. It's always better to have them and not need them."

Sarah nodded, stuffing the boots into her canvas weekender bag. "Good point."

With the packing complete, the couple shifted into their familiar pre-departure routine. Mark carried their bags down the hallway of their split-level home, while Sarah detoured into the kitchen. She checked the dials on the electric stove, unplugged the coffee maker, and made sure the back patio door was deadbolted securely. Mark met her by the front entrance, dangling the car keys.

"Did you turn down the thermostat?" Sarah asked, shrugging into her denim jacket.

Mark paused, his hand on the front doorknob. "I thought you did."

With a fond roll of her eyes, Sarah jogged over to the hallway wall, tapping the smart thermostat down to sixty-two degrees. "Saved the electric bill," she called out.

Out in the driveway, the crisp autumn air smelled of dried leaves as Mark popped the trunk of their Honda CR-V. He arranged the bags securely while Sarah settled into the passenger seat, plugging her phone into the dashboard cable to queue up their designated road-trip playlist.

Mark slid behind the steering wheel, pulling his seatbelt across his chest. He looked over at his wife and smiled. "Ready?"

"Hit it," Sarah said. Mark shifted into reverse, backing out of their suburban driveway and turning toward the open highway, leaving the quiet house behind for the weekend.


Suitcase zippers zipped, coffee brewed, and the subtle anxiety of leaving the house successfully navigated. Married for five years, Mark and Sarah moved through their Friday morning routine with the added urgency of a long-awaited two-day getaway to a cabin in the Catskills.

"Did you pack the phone chargers?" Sarah called from the master bedroom, tossing a stray knit sweater into her canvas duffel bag.

"Got them in my backpack," Mark replied from the kitchen. He was busy transferring their travel mugs of coffee into the center console of their Subaru. "Are you taking the blue cooler, or should I just throw the road snacks in a tote bag?"

"Tote bag is fine. We’re only going to be gone for two days," Sarah said, hauling her bag down the hallway. She paused by the thermostat, bumping it down to sixty-two degrees, before making sure the back patio door was deadbolted. Mark met her at the front door, taking the heavy duffel from her shoulder.

"I checked the stove and locked the downstairs windows," Mark said, anticipating her usual pre-trip checklist. He carried the bags out to the driveway, stowing them in the trunk next to his own luggage, while Sarah set the house alarm and locked the front door behind them.

The crisp autumn air held the promise of a restful weekend. Sarah slipped into the passenger seat and pulled up the GPS on her phone. "ETA is about two hours," she announced, plugging the cord into the dashboard.

Mark slid behind the wheel, shifting the car into reverse. "Perfect. We'll be there before noon." He handed her one of the warm travel mugs. They clinked their coffees together, and as they pulled out of their suburban driveway, the weekend officially began.