Mark folded the last duffel bag into the trunk of the Subaru, wedging it neatly beside the small cooler. "Did you grab the phone chargers?" he called out, leaning back to stretch his shoulders.

Sarah appeared at the front door, pulling her cardigan tighter against the brisk October morning. She held up a tangled white cord in triumph. "Got them. And I set the thermostat down to sixty-two so we aren't paying to heat an empty house."

"Perfect," Mark said, slamming the trunk shut with a solid thud. "You have your keys?"

"In my purse." Sarah locked the deadbolt, instinctively giving the handle an extra jiggle to ensure it was secure before walking down the driveway. She slid into the passenger seat while Mark climbed behind the wheel.

Mark started the engine, and the radio sprang to life with the low murmur of the morning news. "So, what's the verdict? Are we hitting the local drive-thru on the way out, or waiting until we cross the state line to get coffee?"

Sarah pulled up the GPS on her phone, tracing the glowing blue line of their route toward the coast. "Let's do the local place. I need caffeine now if I'm going to help you navigate the beltway traffic."

"Fair enough. Two large dark roasts it is." Mark shifted the car into reverse and glanced over his shoulder.

"Oh, wait," Sarah said, her hand hovering over her phone screen. "Did you remember to take the kitchen trash out?"

Mark paused, keeping his foot firmly on the brake. He let out a soft sigh, followed by a wry smile. "Yep. Took it out last night. We are officially off duty."

Satisfied, Sarah settled into her seat. Mark backed out of the driveway, tires crunching softly against the fallen leaves, and turned the car toward the highway.


Sarah zipped her olive-green weekender bag, the zipper snagging slightly on a stray sweater thread. "Did you grab the phone chargers?" she called down the hallway, setting her luggage by the front door.

"Got them," Mark yelled from the kitchen. "I put yours in the center console. Do we need to bring the good coffee, or are we just going to use whatever the Airbnb has?"

Sarah walked into the kitchen, finding her husband hovering over their espresso machine. "Definitely bring ours. Last time we went to Shenandoah, the cabin only had instant decaf. Oh, and remember the dog is already at your mom's, so we don't need to rush back Sunday morning."

"Right. Good point." Mark grabbed the half-empty bag of roasted beans and tossed it into a canvas tote bag alongside a loaf of sourdough and a few apples. "Did you adjust the thermostat?"

"Set to sixty-two," Sarah confirmed, double-checking the deadbolt on the back door. She grabbed her travel mug and filled it with ice water. "Alright, I think that’s everything. If we leave now, we can beat the worst of the I-66 traffic."

They carried their bags out to the driveway. The crisp Friday morning air carried a faint hint of autumn chill. Mark popped the trunk of their crossover, carefully arranging the luggage so his heavy hiking boots wouldn't crush the tote bag of groceries.

"I'll drive the first leg," Sarah offered, sliding into the driver’s seat and adjusting the rearview mirror.


The zipper of the canvas duffel bag stuck halfway, but Sarah gave it a sharp tug, finally sealing away their clothes for the weekend.

"Did you grab the ice packs?" Mark called out from the kitchen.

"Put them in the cooler ten minutes ago," Sarah replied, carrying the heavy bag down the hallway. "Did you remember to adjust the thermostat?"

Mark paused, his hand hovering over the handle of the back door. "Ah. Good call." He jogged back to the living room to dial the air conditioning up to seventy-eight degrees. It was mid-July in Ohio, and there was no sense in cooling an empty house while they were away.

When he returned, Sarah was already waiting by the open trunk of their Subaru. Mark hoisted the cooler in beside the duffel bag, making sure the handles cleared the latch, and pushed the hatch down until it clicked securely.

"Are we making coffee here, or stopping on the way?" Sarah asked, slipping into the passenger seat and pulling her seatbelt across her chest.

"Let's just hit the drive-thru near the highway," Mark said as he climbed behind the wheel and started the engine. "If we leave now, we can beat the worst of the outbound commuter traffic. We should be at the cabin right around sunset."

"Sounds like a plan."

Mark backed out of the driveway, waiting for a neighbor walking a golden retriever to pass before pulling out into the street. As the familiar suburban houses began to blur past, Sarah connected her phone to the car's Bluetooth, selecting their favorite true-crime podcast for the two-hour drive. Mark merged onto Interstate 71 South, reached over the center console to briefly squeeze her hand, and settled into the middle lane. The weekend had officially begun.


Sarah tossed a pair of jeans onto the growing pile on their bed. "Are you bringing the heavy coats, or just the fleeces?" she asked, leaning over to zip her toiletry bag.

Mark looked up from his phone, his thumb hovering over the weather app. "Just the fleeces should be fine. It says highs in the sixties for the whole weekend in Monterey, but it might get breezy near the water."

"Perfect," Sarah said, tossing a navy pullover toward his half of the suitcase. "Don't forget your good walking shoes. I’m not listening to you complain about your arches like last time we went to the coast."

Mark laughed, walking over to the closet to retrieve his footwear. "Message received. I’ll pack the sneakers."

They spent the next twenty minutes in a comfortable, familiar rhythm, dividing the remaining evening tasks. Mark went downstairs to set the thermostat and ensure the back door was locked, while Sarah did a final sweep of the upstairs, grabbing the spare phone chargers and turning off the hallway lights.

By seven o'clock the next morning, the trunk of their gray Honda was packed. Mark stood by the driver’s side door, balancing two steaming travel mugs of coffee.

"Did you check the back gate?" Sarah asked, sliding into the passenger seat and pulling the seatbelt across her chest.

"Padlocked and secure," Mark replied, handing Sarah her mug before climbing behind the wheel. He pushed the ignition button, and the engine hummed to life.

"Do we need gas?" she asked, adjusting the air conditioning vents.

"I filled up yesterday after work," Mark said, tapping the bed-and-breakfast's address into the dashboard GPS. "Two hours and fifteen minutes if traffic holds. Ready?"

"Absolutely," Sarah smiled, taking a sip of her coffee. Mark shifted the car into drive, and they pulled out of the driveway, leaving the work week behind.


Mark zipped the small canvas duffel bag and set it by the front door, next to the heavy plastic cooler. "Did you grab the dog food, or should I?" he called out toward the kitchen.

"Already in the trunk," Sarah replied, appearing with two steaming travel mugs. She handed one to Mark, taking a careful sip from her own. "I figured we'd need the caffeine if we want to beat the I-95 traffic. Did you remember the phone chargers?"

"Yep, packed in my backpack." Mark checked his watch. It was barely four o'clock, but the Friday afternoon rush was inevitably building. "If we leave right now, we should make it to the cabin by seven. We can just pick up a pizza in town when we get there."

"Sounds perfect," Sarah said, picking up her tote bag and slipping into her sneakers. "I don't feel like cooking tonight anyway. Oh, wait—did we turn down the thermostat?"

"I set it to sixty-two," Mark assured her. He grabbed the cooler by the handles, groaning slightly at the shifting weight of the ice and drinks inside.

Together, they walked out into the crisp October air. Sarah popped the hatch of their Subaru, rearranging her suitcase to make room for the cooler while Mark loaded the final bag of groceries.

"I can drive the first leg," Sarah offered, pulling her keys from her jacket pocket and walking around to the driver's side. "You drove last time we went upstate."

"Deal. You drive, I DJ," Mark said, sliding into the passenger seat and pulling the seatbelt across his chest.

Sarah started the engine, the familiar hum of the car mixing with the quiet suburban street. She connected her phone to the dashboard, backed smoothly out of the driveway, and pointed the car north.


Mark pressed his weight down on the canvas duffel bag, finally coaxing the zipper closed. "I think that’s everything," he called down the hallway.

From the kitchen, Sarah’s voice floated back. "Did you pack your good rain jacket? The forecast said it might drizzle on Sunday."

"Got it," Mark said, carrying the bag into the living room.

Sarah was standing in front of the open refrigerator, holding a half-empty carton of oat milk. "Should we take this? Or just buy more when we get to Asheville?"

"Let’s just buy more there," Mark said, leaning against the counter. "But definitely grab the coffee beans. I read the reviews for the cabin, and they only have a basic drip machine with no coffee provided."

"Good call," Sarah agreed, tossing the bag of beans and a travel mug into her tote. "I’ll pack some granola bars for the drive, too."

By seven the next morning, a cool autumn dampness had settled over their driveway. Mark tossed the bags into the trunk of their Subaru while Sarah locked the front door, pausing to double-check that she had actually turned off the porch light.

She slid into the passenger seat, already pulling up the map on her phone. Mark started the engine, adjusting his rearview mirror and turning on the heater.

"It's showing a twenty-minute delay on I-40," Sarah murmured, swiping her thumb across the glowing screen. "There’s an accident near the county line. We could take the state highway instead?"

"Let's do the highway," Mark nodded, putting the car into reverse. "We're not in a rush anyway."

Sarah connected her phone to the Bluetooth, selecting her favorite acoustic playlist, and settled back into her seat as Mark backed out of the driveway and pointed the car toward the mountains.


The open suitcase lay flat on the bed, half-filled with sweaters and jeans. Mark tossed in a pair of heavy hiking boots, then hesitated and pulled them back out.

"Are you sure we're doing the ridge trail?" he asked, leaning out of the bedroom doorway.

Sarah called back from the kitchen, over the sound of the refrigerator drawer snapping shut. "It’s supposed to rain Sunday morning! We might just do the paved loop near the visitor center instead." She appeared in the hall holding a half-empty block of sharp cheddar and a plastic container of grapes. "Are we taking the cooler, or should I just toss these?"

"Bring the cooler," Mark said, opting to pack his lighter trail shoes instead. "I’ll grab it from the garage. Did you put a hold on the mail?"

"Did it online yesterday," Sarah said, turning back to the kitchen.

It was Friday evening, and the drive up to the lake would take them just under three hours if traffic out of the city was kind. They had booked the small cabin two months ago, a rare weekend away just for the two of them.

Twenty minutes later, the cooler was wedged behind the passenger seat of their Subaru. Sarah did a final sweep of the living room, ensuring the thermostat was turned down and the coffee pot was switched off, before pulling the front door locked behind her.

Mark was already in the driver's seat, scrolling through his phone. "Podcasts or the audiobook?" he asked as she climbed in and buckled her seatbelt.

"Let’s start with the audiobook," Sarah said, adjusting the air conditioning vent. "But we have to stop at the drive-thru at the edge of town. I didn't have time to make coffee."

"Deal," Mark smiled, putting the car in reverse. "Next stop, caffeine. Then, the lake."


Sarah zipped her canvas duffel bag shut and tossed it onto the bed. "Did you grab the phone chargers, Mark?"

"Got them," Mark called from the kitchen. The refrigerator door thumped shut. "I also packed the leftover pasta and a couple of apples. Figured we might want a snack before we reach the Airbnb."

"Perfect." Sarah walked into the kitchen, grabbing her insulated travel mug. "Google Maps says Interstate 87 is backed up near Albany. We should probably take the scenic route through the valley."

Mark checked his phone, frowning slightly at the traffic map. "You're right. It adds twenty minutes, but at least we'll be moving. Plus, there's that diner we like on Route 9 if we decide we want a real dinner."

"I'm sold," Sarah smiled. "Can you grab my denim jacket from the hall closet? It’s supposed to drop into the mid-forties in the Catskills tonight."

They spent the next ten minutes doing their familiar pre-trip dance: checking window locks, bumping down the thermostat, and double-checking that the coffee pot was off. Mark carried the bags out to the Subaru, loading them into the trunk alongside his hiking boots and a small cooler.

Sarah locked the front door behind them and slid into the passenger seat, immediately connecting her phone to the car's Bluetooth. "Podcast or music?" she asked, pulling up her library.

"Let's start with a podcast. Something funny?" Mark suggested as he turned the ignition, the engine humming to life.

"You got it."

Mark shifted into reverse and backed out of their driveway. As they merged onto the main road, leaving their quiet suburban neighborhood behind, the lingering tension of the workweek finally began to dissipate, replaced by the simple anticipation of two days away together.


The scent of dark roast coffee drifted through the kitchen as David pressed the lid onto his travel mug. "Did you grab the cooler from the basement?" he called out, glancing toward the hallway.

"I'm bringing it up now," Elena replied. She appeared a moment later, the blue plastic cooler bumping gently against her leg. "I packed the turkey sandwiches, the grapes, and those cheddar cheese sticks you like. Do you think we need more ice?"

David inspected the contents and shook his head. "No, this should last until we hit the cabin. It’s only a two-hour drive to the Berkshires." He took the cooler from her and set it by the front door next to their two canvas duffel bags.

Elena stood by the living room thermostat, tapping the digital screen. "Setting it to sixty-five while we're gone. Did you double-check the back door?"

"Locked and bolted," David said, tossing her the car keys. "You want to drive the first leg?"

"Sure. I’ll drive until we get past the interstate traffic, then you can take over for the winding mountain roads." Elena slipped into her denim jacket and grabbed her sunglasses from the kitchen island.

They walked out into the crisp Saturday morning air, their suburban street quiet except for a neighbor’s distant lawnmower. David loaded the bags and the cooler into the trunk of their Honda CR-V, pulling the hatch shut with a solid thud.

Inside the car, Elena adjusted the rearview mirror and connected her phone to the dashboard Bluetooth. "Podcast or playlist?" she asked, putting the car into reverse.

"Let's start with music," David said, taking a warm sip of his coffee. "I'll pull up the GPS."

Elena smiled, backing smoothly out of the driveway. "Next stop, Massachusetts."


The trunk of the Honda CR-V slammed shut, the thud echoing slightly in the quiet suburban garage. Mark wiped his hands on his jeans, satisfied that their overnight bags were securely wedged beside the groceries.

"Did you grab the small cooler?" Sarah called from the kitchen doorway, balancing two insulated travel mugs and a canvas tote bag full of snacks.

"Yeah, it's tucked behind your suitcase," Mark said, walking over to take the blue mug from her. He took a cautious sip of the dark roast coffee. "Perfect. Thanks."

"Did you remember to give your mom Buster's ear drops?"

"I dropped him off an hour ago, meds and his favorite squeaky toy included. We are officially dogless for the next forty-eight hours."

Sarah sighed, a genuine smile finally breaking through her Friday-afternoon fatigue. "A whole weekend at the Asheville cabin. I can't wait to just sit on that porch and look at the trees." She stepped back inside to bump the hallway thermostat down to sixty-two degrees. She locked the door behind her, rattling the brass handle twice out of long-standing habit, and headed for the car.

"Wait, do you want me to drive the first leg?" she asked, pausing by the passenger side.

"Nah, I'm good," Mark said, sliding into the driver's seat and adjusting his rearview mirror. "Unless you want to navigate us around the outbound city traffic. My phone is showing a nasty red line on I-40."

"I'll navigate," Sarah agreed, buckling her seatbelt and pulling up the map app. "If we take the state highway through Marion, it only adds twelve minutes."

"Deal." Mark shifted into reverse. Sarah queued up a mellow acoustic playlist, and as they pulled out of their neighborhood, the week's stress finally began to fade.


Sarah pressed her knee into the overstuffed duffel bag, pulling the zipper closed with a sharp tug. "Mark, are we taking your SUV or my car?" she called down the hallway.

"Mine!" Mark shouted back from the kitchen. "The oil change is overdue on the Civic, remember?"

Sarah grabbed her toiletry bag and headed out of the bedroom. She found Mark leaning over the island, methodically transferring sparkling water and a Tupperware container of leftover pasta into a small blue cooler.

"Good call," she said, setting her bags by the front door. "Did you remember the extra phone chargers?"

"Got them," Mark said, tossing a tangle of white cords into his backpack. "And I already checked the EZ-Pass. If we leave now, the map says we can beat the worst of the Friday traffic and make it to the Airbnb by eight."

They moved in a familiar, practiced rhythm. Sarah took the cooler while Mark hoisted the heavy duffel and his backpack over his shoulders. Outside, the late afternoon sun was casting long shadows across their suburban driveway. Mark popped the trunk of the SUV, arranging the bags to leave room for the firewood they planned to buy once they reached the mountains.

"Wait, did we turn down the thermostat?" Sarah asked, pausing at the driver's side door.

"I set it to sixty-five," Mark assured her, sliding into the passenger seat. "And I double-checked the back door lock."

Satisfied, Sarah climbed in and started the engine. She pulled up the route on her phone, pairing it with the car's Bluetooth. As they backed out of the driveway and turned toward the interstate, Mark reached over and turned up the radio. Finally, the stress of the workweek began to lift.


Sarah folded the last of her sweaters into the canvas duffel bag resting on the bed. "Are you taking your heavy jacket?" she called out toward the bathroom.

Mark emerged a moment later, tossing his nylon toiletry bag beside her luggage. "Just the grey fleece," he said, zipping his own suitcase. "The forecast says it shouldn't drop below fifty up at the cabin."

"Perfect." Sarah grabbed her phone and charger off the nightstand. "Did you remember to pause the mail?"

"Yep, did it online yesterday afternoon." Mark checked his watch. "If we leave in ten minutes, we should be able to beat the worst of the northbound traffic."

"Let me just check the thermostat," Sarah said, heading down the hallway. She tapped the digital screen, lowering the house temperature to sixty-two degrees to save on the heating bill for the weekend.

Mark carried the bags out to the Subaru in the driveway. The late Friday afternoon sun cast long, golden shadows across their front lawn. He loaded the trunk, making sure to wedge the small cooler of groceries and road snacks securely against the back seat. A minute later, Sarah emerged from the front door. She locked the deadbolt and gave the brass handle a habitual double-pull to ensure it was secure.

She slid into the passenger seat, handing Mark a travel mug of dark roast coffee. "You drive the first leg, and I'll find a podcast?" she offered.

"Deal," Mark said, shifting the car into reverse. He glanced at


Mark stood in the kitchen, double-checking the printed Airbnb confirmation while his coffee finished brewing. "Did you grab the small cooler?" he called out toward the hallway.

Sarah emerged from the bedroom, a canvas tote bag slung over her shoulder and a tangle of phone chargers in her hand. "It’s already in the trunk," she said, dropping the chargers onto the kitchen counter. "I put the leftover pasta in there, too. We’ll need an easy dinner tonight after the drive."

"Smart," Mark agreed, pouring dark roast into two insulated travel mugs. It was Saturday morning, and their long-awaited weekend trip to the Catskills was finally underway. The drive from their New Jersey townhouse would take about three hours, provided they beat the worst of the weekend traffic.

"Should we take the Parkway or Route 17?" Sarah asked, pulling up the navigation app on her phone. "Waze is saying 17 is clear, but there’s a speed trap near Paramus."

"Let’s stick to 17," Mark said, handing her a steaming mug. "It’s a more scenic drive, anyway. Have you seen the house keys?"

Sarah patted her denim jacket pocket and smiled. "Right here. I locked the back door and turned down the thermostat. We just need to load the bags and go."

They carried their two duffel bags out to the driveway. The crisp autumn air hinted at the perfect hiking weather they were hoping for. Mark popped the trunk of their Subaru, arranging the luggage neatly beside the cooler and the extra blankets Sarah had insisted on bringing.

Sarah climbed into the passenger seat, immediately plugging her phone into the dashboard to cue up their road-trip playlist. Mark slid behind the wheel, put the car in reverse, and backed out into the quiet suburban street, ready for a peaceful weekend away.


Sarah zipped her duffel bag with a soft sigh of relief, the workweek finally behind her. "Did you grab the cooler?" she called down the hallway.

"Got it!" Mark shouted back, his footsteps heavy on the hardwood as he carried the small plastic cooler toward the front door of their New Jersey split-level. "I threw in the leftover turkey sandwiches and a couple of seltzers. Think that’s enough for the drive?"

"Perfect," Sarah said, emerging from the bedroom with her bag and a tangled phone charger. "We'll stop in Kingston for dinner anyway."

It was Friday evening, and their long-awaited weekend trip to a rental cabin in the Catskills was finally happening. They moved with the familiar, synchronized rhythm of a couple married for five years. Mark loaded the Subaru’s trunk while Sarah did a final sweep of the house—unplugging the coffee maker, adjusting the thermostat, and double-checking the deadbolt on the back door.

Outside, the late autumn air was crisp. Mark was already behind the wheel, tapping a relaxed rhythm on the dashboard.

"I can drive the first leg if you're tired," Sarah offered, opening the passenger door and dropping her purse into the footwell.

"I'm good for now," Mark said, putting the car in reverse. "But you're in charge of the GPS. Google Maps is saying Route 17 has a fifteen-minute slowdown near Paramus, so we might want to take the Parkway."

Sarah pulled up the app on her phone, zooming in on the red lines of traffic. "Parkway it is. I'll queue up that history podcast we started last week."

"Deal," Mark smiled, glancing at her as they merged out of their subdivision. The familiar neighborhood faded behind them, replaced by the open stretch of the highway and the quiet, comforting promise of two days away together.


The kitchen island was covered with a mix of travel mugs, tangled charging cables, and a half-empty loaf of bread. Sarah zipped up her canvas weekender bag, giving it a final pat.

"Are we taking the rest of these cold cuts, or should I just toss them?" Mark called from the open refrigerator, a jar of mustard in one hand and a plastic container in the other.

"Toss the ham, but put the turkey in the cooler," Sarah said, checking her phone for the weekend weather forecast in the Berkshires. "It’s going to drop to the low forties tonight. Did you pack your heavy fleece?"

"Yeah, it’s already in the trunk," Mark said, dropping the ham into the trash and shutting the fridge door with his hip. "I’ll grab the cooler. Did you get the coffee?"

"Already poured," she replied, handing him his insulated steel mug.

They moved in a practiced, familiar rhythm. Out in the garage, Mark rearranged the trunk of their Subaru to accommodate the small cooler alongside Sarah’s bag and his own backpack. He liked things symmetrical; Sarah just wanted everything to fit so they could leave.

"Okay, the GPS says it's about a three-hour drive if we take I-90," Sarah noted, climbing into the passenger seat and plugging her phone into the dashboard. "But there's construction near Springfield. We could take the state routes instead. It adds twenty minutes, but we avoid the toll booths."

Mark started the engine, the radio softly coming to life. "Let's do the state routes. I'm in no rush, and the leaves should look better that way."

He backed out of the driveway, pausing at the curb. "Wait. Did you lock the back door?"

Sarah sighed, a fond smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Yes, Mark. The back door is locked, the coffee pot is off, and the thermostat is set to sixty-two. Drive."


Mark stood by the open trunk of their Honda CR-V, shifting the small cooler to make room for Sarah’s overnight bag. The crisp October air carried a slight chill, a perfect preview of the Ohio autumn they were driving south to see.

"Did you grab the trail mix?" Sarah called from the front porch. She pulled the front door shut and rattled the knob twice to ensure it was locked.

"It's in the canvas tote behind the passenger seat," Mark replied, slamming the trunk shut. He brushed a stray pine needle off his jacket. "What about the thermostat? Did you set it to away?"

Sarah jogged down the driveway, a silver travel mug clutched in one hand. "Sixty-two degrees. And I made sure the coffee pot is completely unplugged. I know how you get about that."

"Hey, peace of mind is priceless," Mark laughed, sliding into the driver’s seat.

Sarah got in and buckled her seatbelt, settling her mug into the center console. She pulled out her phone and opened the GPS. "Okay, so the cabin in Hocking Hills is about two hours and forty-five minutes away. There's a slight slowdown on 71 South near Columbus, but it shouldn't add more than ten minutes."

"Not bad," Mark said, turning the ignition. "Do we want to stop for gas around here, or wait until we're outside the city?"

"Let's wait. The station right off the highway usually has cheaper gas anyway," Sarah suggested. She tapped the screen to start the route, then opened her Spotify app. "Podcast or music?"

"Music for now. Put on that indie folk playlist," Mark said, checking his mirrors and backing out of the driveway. "We can switch to the true crime podcast once we hit the highway."

Sarah smiled, queuing up the first song. "Deal. Let's go look at some leaves."


Elena leaned against the kitchen island, staring at the weather app on her phone. "It says it might rain Sunday morning in Asheville," she said. "Did you pack your rain jacket?"

Mark zipped his olive-green duffel bag and hoisted it off the dining chair. "Yep, shoved it in the side pocket. Are we taking the small cooler, or just stopping for lunch on the way?"

"Let's just stop," Elena decided, grabbing her insulated travel mug from the drying rack. "I don't want to deal with buying ice right now. We can get sandwiches at that deli near the state line."

"Sounds good." Mark took the travel mug from her hand and walked over to the coffee maker, filling it to the brim. "You have the Airbnb host's message with the lockbox code?"

"Screenshot and favorited," she said. She did a final sweep of the kitchen, double-checking that the stove was off and the back door was bolted. "Okay, thermostat is set to sixty-five. I think we're ready."

They carried their bags out to the driveway. The crisp October air held a slight chill, a sharp contrast to the familiar warmth of their house. Mark popped the trunk of their Subaru, tossing the duffel bags next to Elena's spare hiking boots, while she settled into the passenger seat and plugged her phone into the dashboard to launch the map.

When Mark slid into the driver's seat, the engine hummed to life. "GPS says three and a half hours if we take Interstate 40," Elena noted, tapping the glowing screen. "Traffic looks completely clear."

"Perfect." Mark shifted the car into reverse, looking over his shoulder as they backed out of their driveway. "Put on that acoustic playlist, will you? Let's get out of here."

Elena smiled, scrolling through her music library as they turned toward the highway.


Mark folded the last canvas duffel bag into the trunk of the Subaru, wedging it neatly next to the cooler. Inside the house, Sarah was doing her final sweep of the kitchen.

"Did you pack the phone chargers?" she called out, leaning over the island to make sure the coffee maker was unplugged.

"Two cords and the wall block!" Mark yelled back from the garage. He walked in, wiping his hands on his jeans. "Trunk is shut. Are we taking the toll route or the scenic way?"

Sarah adjusted the hallway thermostat down to sixty-two degrees. "Let's just take the interstate. It’s getting dark, and I'd rather get to the cabin before nine. We can do the scenic route on the way back Sunday."

"Highway it is. You want to grab a drive-thru on the way, or stop at that diner near the exit?"

Sarah paused at the front door, tapping her chin. "Drive-thru. I just want to get there, unpack, and open that bottle of Malbec."

"A woman with a plan," Mark smiled, grabbing his sunglasses from the entryway table even though the sun was already dipping below the tree line. "Keys, wallet, phone?"

"Check, check, and check," Sarah said. She locked the deadbolt behind them, pulling the door handle twice to make sure it had properly caught.

They climbed into the car, the familiar smell of upholstery and stale mints welcoming them. Mark started the engine, and Sarah immediately connected her phone via Bluetooth, queuing up a new episode of their favorite true-crime podcast. As Mark shifted into reverse and the car rolled down the driveway, the heavy stress of the workweek finally seemed to lift. He glanced over at her, tapping the steering wheel.

"Ready?" he asked.

"So ready," she sighed, settling into her seat as they headed toward the highway.


"Did you pack the rain jackets?" Sarah called from the bedroom, tossing a pair of hiking boots into her worn canvas duffel bag.

Mark appeared in the hallway, holding two stainless steel travel mugs of coffee. "I put them in the trunk last night. Along with the cooler." He handed her a mug. "Are we taking the highway or the scenic route? Google says traffic is already backing up near the bridge."

Sarah took a sip of the hot coffee and pulled up the map on her phone. "Let's do the scenic route. It adds twenty minutes, but I’d rather keep moving than sit in bumper-to-bumper all the way to the Catskills."

"Deal," Mark said. "I'll load these last two bags. Can you make sure the back patio door is locked?"

Ten minutes later, the house was secured. Sarah did her usual final sweep, double-checking that the coffee maker was unplugged and the thermostat was set to sixty-five. It was only a two-night trip, but old habits died hard.

She stepped out into the crisp Friday morning, locking the front door behind her. Mark was already in the driver’s seat of their Subaru, adjusting the mirrors.

"Everything good?" he asked as she climbed in and pulled the seatbelt across her chest.

"Coffee maker is off, windows are shut," she confirmed. "Did you text the neighbor about the cat?"

"Yep, Mrs. Gable has the spare key. She’s coming over at noon." Mark shifted the car into reverse and backed out of the driveway. "Podcast or music?"

"Music for now," Sarah said, tapping the dashboard screen to connect her Bluetooth. "Let's save the true crime podcast for the country roads."

Mark smiled, putting the car into drive. "Sounds like a plan." They merged onto the quiet suburban street, the weekend officially ahead of them.


Mark zipped his dark green duffel bag and set it by the front door. "Did you grab the phone chargers?" he called out, organizing the scattered mail on the entryway table into a neat stack.

"I have mine," Sarah yelled back from the kitchen. The refrigerator door clicked shut. "I'm putting yours in the snack tote. Along with the honeycrisp apples, the trail mix, and that sharp cheddar." She emerged into the hallway carrying a heavy canvas tote bag, her denim jacket draped casually over one arm. "Are we taking the toll road or the scenic route?"

Mark checked his phone, watching the digital traffic lines glow red and orange on the map. "I-87 is backed up near Albany. If we take the state highways, it only adds about twenty minutes, and we completely avoid the pileup."

"State highways it is," Sarah agreed, shifting the tote bag to her other shoulder. "I'd rather keep moving than stare at someone's bumper for an hour. Okay, let's run down the list. Thermostat is set to sixty-two, coffee maker is unplugged, dishwasher is empty. Did you lock the back door?"

"Locked and bolted," Mark said, tossing her the car keys. "You want the first shift driving?"

"Sure. You can be the DJ." Sarah caught the keys with a sharp jingle.

They loaded the bags into the trunk of their Subaru, the cool Friday evening air carrying the faint, pleasant scent of a neighbor's woodsmoke. It was only a two-night stay at a rented cabin in the Catskills, but after a long week at their respective offices, the minor break from their routine felt immense.

Mark settled into the passenger seat, buckling his belt and scrolling


Mark stared into the open refrigerator, trying to decide what perishables needed to come with them. "Do we need to bring the half-empty carton of oat milk?" he called over his shoulder.

Sarah looked up from her phone at the kitchen island, where she was double-checking the weekend forecast. "Leave it. It’ll survive until Sunday night. But definitely grab the cheddar block. We can have it with crackers on the porch tomorrow."

It was Friday evening, and the drive to their rented cabin in the Blue Ridge Mountains would take exactly three hours, assuming they managed to beat the worst of the interstate traffic. Sarah zipped up her canvas duffel bag and playfully nudged Mark’s battered suitcase with her shoe. "Are you finally ready to go? We told ourselves we'd leave by five."

"It's only five-fifteen," Mark corrected gently, shutting the fridge and tossing the


Mark tossed the last duffel bag into the trunk of the Subaru. "Did you grab the small cooler?" he called out toward the open garage door.

Sarah emerged a moment later, juggling two insulated travel mugs and a canvas tote bag bulging with groceries. "Cooler is already behind your seat," she said. "I made sure to pack the sharp cheddar, the water crackers, and those grapes we need to finish." She handed him a steaming mug. "Black, no sugar."

"Perfect. Thanks." Mark took a cautious sip, savoring the bitter roast, then closed the trunk with a solid thud. "Did you remember to turn down the thermostat?"

"Set to sixty-two," Sarah confirmed, walking around to the passenger side. "And I double-checked the deadbolt on the back door. The neighbor has the spare key to feed the cat tomorrow."

They climbed into the car, the familiar routine settling over them. It was Friday afternoon, and their rented cabin in the Blue Ridge Mountains was only a two-hour drive away—exactly what they both needed after a grueling week of endless emails and meetings.

Mark started the engine, waiting a second for his phone to connect to the dashboard. "Are we taking the interstate the whole way, or do you want to cut over to the scenic route?"

Sarah tapped the destination into the GPS app. "Let's stick to the interstate until we clear the suburban traffic. It's already backing up near the bypass. I'll put on that podcast we started last week once we hit the highway."

"Sounds like a plan." Mark shifted into reverse and backed out of their driveway. He glanced at Sarah, who was already scrolling through her downloaded episodes, a relaxed smile settling on her face.

"Ready for two days of spotty cell service?" she asked.

"More than ready," Mark replied, pointing the car toward the main road.


Mark folded the last of his sweaters and pressed them into the shared canvas duffel bag. Beside him, Elena was debating between two pairs of hiking boots, holding one in each hand.

"Take the brown ones," Mark said, zipping the bag with a slight tug. "They have better ankle support for the trails."

"Good point," Elena agreed. She dropped the brown pair by the bedroom door and tossed the others back into the closet. "Did you remember to grab the coffee pods? The cabin's listing said they only have a regular drip machine, but I swear I saw a Keurig in the photos."

"I packed both just in case," Mark said. "And the dog is safely dropped off at your mom's, so we are officially off the hook until Sunday night."

Elena smiled, the tension of the long workweek visibly melting from her shoulders. They carried their gear out to the driveway. The crisp October morning air in central Ohio carried a faint, pleasant scent of dried leaves. Mark popped the trunk of their SUV, wedging the duffel bag beside the small cooler Elena had prepped earlier with turkey sandwiches, apples, and sparkling water.

While Mark secured the bags, Elena did the final walk-through of the house. She double-checked the deadbolts, lowered the thermostat to sixty-two degrees, and made absolutely sure the stove was off.

When she finally slid into the passenger seat, Mark already had the GPS queued up on the dashboard screen. "Hocking Hills, exactly two hours away," he announced.

"Perfect," Elena said, reaching over to adjust the cabin heat and plugging her phone into the console. "I made a driving playlist. It’s mostly nineties acoustic."

"I'll survive," Mark laughed, shifting the car into reverse. He backed out of the driveway, and together they pulled out of the neighborhood, ready for a quiet weekend in the woods.


Sarah zipped her duffel bag on the kitchen island and checked the weather app one last time. "It says it might drop into the low forties tonight up there. Did you pack your heavy fleece?"

Mark leaned his head around the hallway corner, a pair of hiking boots dangling from his left hand. "I grabbed the gray one. And the extra blanket, just in case the cabin's heating is as spotty as the reviews said."

"Perfect." Sarah tossed a bag of pretzels and two travel mugs of fresh coffee into a canvas tote.

They had been planning this weekend trip to the Berkshires for a month, desperately needing a screen-free break from their chaotic work schedules. The logistics were simple, yet somehow they were still running twenty minutes behind their self-imposed departure time.

Mark hauled the cooler out the front door and popped the trunk of their Subaru. Sarah followed closely behind, pulling the front door shut and locking the deadbolt. The crisp October morning air smelled faintly of damp pine needles and exhaust.

"Can you slide the cooler to the left?" Sarah asked, hovering by the bumper. "I don't want it shifting and crushing the grocery bags."

Mark nudged the heavy plastic cooler, wedging his duffel bag next to it to lock it in place. "Done. You want to drive first, or should I?"

"I'll drive," Sarah offered, slipping into the driver's seat and adjusting the rearview mirror. "But only if you handle the playlist. No jazz this early."

"Deal." Mark climbed into the passenger side, already tapping his phone to pull up the GPS. "Maps says the interstate is backed up near the bridge. We should take the state highway."

"Scenic route it is," Sarah said. She put the car in reverse, backing out of their driveway, finally letting herself exhale as they headed down the road.


The open suitcase lay flat on the duvet, half-filled with sweaters and jeans.

"Do you think we need the heavy jackets?" David asked, holding up a thick wool coat from his side of the closet.

Elena paused, smoothing down a folded t-shirt. "The weather app says it'll drop into the low forties at night in Asheville. I'd bring it just in case we want to sit out on the porch."

David nodded, tossing the coat onto his pile. "Fair enough. Did you grab the trail mix from the pantry?"

"Yes, and the apples," Elena said, zipping her toiletries bag. "But we should probably stop for proper coffee before we hit the highway."

By eight o'clock the next morning, the trunk of their Subaru was packed. The October air was crisp, hinting at the changing season. David did his customary walk-through of the house—checking the stove burners, adjusting the thermostat, and locking the deadbolt—while Elena settled into the passenger seat and synced her phone to the car’s Bluetooth.

When David finally slid into the driver's seat, she handed him a travel mug steaming with dark roast.

"You’re a lifesaver," he said, taking a cautious sip. He tapped the dashboard screen. "GPS says it’s about a three-hour drive if we avoid the interstate."

"Let's take the scenic route," Elena suggested, pulling up a folk-rock playlist. "Check-in at the cabin isn't until three anyway. We can stop in Black Mountain to grab lunch."

David shifted the car into reverse and backed out of the driveway. As they navigated their quiet suburban neighborhood, a comfortable silence settled over them. There was no grand expedition awaiting them—just two days of hiking, reading by a fire, and escaping their weekday schedules. Elena turned the music up slightly as they merged onto the main road, the weekend stretching out ahead of them.


Sarah zipped her duffel bag, pressing down on the faded canvas to force the zipper shut. "Did you check the forecast for Asheville?" she asked, tossing a pair of hiking boots onto the bedroom floor.

Mark tapped the screen of his phone from the doorway. "Yeah, it’s supposed to drop into the low forties tomorrow night. I threw my heavy fleece in the trunk, just in case." He walked over and picked up her boots. "I'll take these down to the Subaru. Are we bringing the cooler?"

"Just a small one for the turkey sandwiches and the oat milk," Sarah said, grabbing her toiletry bag from the bathroom counter. "I don’t want to waste time stopping for lunch on the way up."

Twenty minutes later, they met in the kitchen. Mark rinsed their morning coffee mugs and set them in the dishwasher while Sarah double-checked the lock on the sliding glass door.

"Should we take the interstate or the scenic route through the foothills?" Mark asked, grabbing the car keys from the ceramic bowl by the front door.

"Let’s just take I-40," Sarah replied, pulling her denim jacket on. "I know the scenic route is prettier, but I really just want to get to the Airbnb before sunset so we can unpack. We can take the long way home on Sunday."

"Sounds like a plan." Mark opened the front door, letting the brisk Friday afternoon air spill into the hallway.

They walked out to the driveway together. Mark settled the small cooler into the backseat while Sarah climbed into the passenger side, plugging her phone into the dashboard to queue up a podcast. As Mark backed the car out of the driveway, Sarah handed him a travel mug of fresh coffee. He took a cautious sip, smiled, and turned the steering wheel toward the highway.


Mark folded the last of his sweaters and shoved them into the canvas duffel bag. "Did you pack the phone chargers?" he called down the hallway.

"I grabbed yours from the nightstand!" Sarah shouted back. She appeared in the bedroom doorway a moment later, a bulging toiletry bag tucked under her arm. "But I can't find the travel toothpaste. We might just have to stop at a CVS on the way."

"That’s fine. I want to grab a coffee once we're out of the neighborhood anyway." Mark zipped the bag and swung it off the bed.

They had been looking forward to this weekend in the Blue Ridge Mountains since Tuesday, when the stress of their respective office jobs had simultaneously peaked. It was only a three-hour drive from their home in Charlotte, but it felt like a necessary escape.

In the kitchen, Sarah did her customary final sweep: checking the stove burners, unplugging the toaster, and ensuring the back patio door was securely locked. Mark carried the bags out to the Subaru, the crisp Friday evening air biting at his neck. By the time he had the trunk closed, Sarah was walking down the front steps, keys in hand, adjusting her jacket.

"Did you set the thermostat to sixty-five?" Mark asked as he slid into the driver's seat.

Sarah paused, her hand on the passenger door handle. "I did. And I double-checked the deadbolt."

She climbed in and immediately synced her phone to the car's Bluetooth, bringing up their shared road-trip playlist. Mark started the engine, waiting a moment for the heater to kick in before shifting into reverse.

"Route 16 is showing a little traffic near the interstate," Sarah noted, scrolling the map glowing on her screen. "Want to take the back way through Huntersville?"

"Good idea," Mark said. He backed out of the driveway, the tires crunching over the autumn leaves, and turned the car toward the mountains.


Sarah folded the last sweater into her canvas duffel bag, zipping it shut with a decisive tug. Across the bedroom, Mark was staring at the weather app on his phone, his brow furrowed.

"It says it might drop into the forties up in the Hudson Valley tomorrow night," Mark said, tossing his phone onto the mattress. "Should I bring the heavy parka?"

"Just layer," Sarah replied, tossing him a grey fleece pullover from the closet. "We're only going to be outside walking to the restaurant and maybe poking around the antique shops. You don't need to dress for an Arctic expedition."

Mark caught the fleece and nodded, stuffing it into his battered weekend backpack. "Fair enough. Did you put a hold on the mail?"

"Yesterday. And I set the thermostat to sixty-two." Sarah grabbed her bag by the handles. "Let's just load the car. If we leave now, we can beat the worst of the northbound traffic."

They moved downstairs in tandem, a well-choreographed routine born of six years of marriage. In the kitchen, Mark filled two insulated travel mugs with fresh coffee while Sarah double-checked the back door lock and made sure the stove burners were off.

Outside, the late Friday afternoon air was crisp. Mark popped the trunk of their sedan, arranging the bags so they wouldn't slide around on the curving upstate roads. Sarah slid into the passenger seat, immediately plugging her phone into the dashboard to queue up a history podcast they had been saving.

Mark climbed in behind the wheel, handing her a steaming silver mug. "GPS says two hours and fifteen minutes," he announced, shifting the car into reverse.

"Perfect," Sarah said, taking a careful sip. "Let's get out of here."


The coffee maker sputtered its final drops as Sarah zipped up her canvas duffel bag.

"Did you pack the phone chargers?" she called out, leaning over the kitchen island to double-check their printed Airbnb confirmation.

"Got them," Mark replied, emerging from the hallway with his backpack and a grocery bag full of snacks. "I brought the long cords, plus the car adapter. Do we need to bring our own coffee?"

Sarah scanned the paper. "The host says there's a Keurig, but I packed half a bag of our beans and the French press just in case. I don't want to risk it."

Mark laughed, setting his bags by the front door. "Smart. I set the thermostat down to sixty-five, and the back door is locked. Ready?"

"Almost." Sarah grabbed her travel mug and did a final visual sweep of the living room. "Did you water the ferns?"

"Yesterday," Mark assured her. He jingled the car keys. "Come on, if we leave now, we can beat the worst of the I-95 traffic."

Out in the driveway, the crisp Saturday morning air carried a hint of autumn. Mark popped the trunk of their Subaru, arranging the bags alongside a pair of hiking boots and a bundled-up fleece blanket. Sarah slid into the passenger seat, immediately plugging her phone into the center console.

"Podcast or playlist?" she asked as Mark climbed in behind the wheel, his seatbelt clicking into place.

"Let's start with music. Put on that indie folk playlist you made last week," he said, checking his mirrors and shifting into reverse.

As they backed out of the driveway, Sarah adjusted the volume, the acoustic guitar blending with the low hum of the car's heater. They exchanged a brief, comfortable smile, ready for two quiet days away from the city.


The trunk of the Honda CR-V slammed shut with a solid thud. Mark dusted off his hands and walked back into the kitchen, where his wife, Sarah, was unplugging the coffee maker.

"Did you grab the small cooler?" Sarah asked, tossing a rogue phone charger into her canvas tote bag.

"It's in the backseat behind my duffel," Mark said. He patted his pockets: keys, wallet, phone. "I put the extra ice packs in, just like you asked. Did we decide on leaving the thermostat at sixty-five?"

"Sixty-two," she corrected, walking over to the digital panel on the hallway wall and tapping the screen. "Gas is too expensive to heat an empty house for the weekend. You reminded Mrs. Higgins to feed the cat, right?"

"Yep, gave her the spare key yesterday." Mark grabbed his sunglasses from the counter. "Are you ready? If we leave now, we can beat the worst of the Interstate 87 traffic and make it to the Catskills before dark."

Sarah did a final sweep of the kitchen with her eyes. The sink was empty, the stove was off, and the back door was bolted. "Ready," she said, letting out a long exhale that seemed to carry away the stress of the workweek.

They stepped out into the crisp October afternoon, pulling the front door firmly shut until the deadbolt clicked. Inside the car, Mark started the engine while Sarah immediately connected her phone to the Bluetooth.

"I have control of the music," she announced, pulling up a road-trip playlist. "And the GPS says we have a two-hour drive. Need me to find a drive-thru for coffee?"

Mark backed out of the driveway, checking his rearview mirror. "We have the thermos. Let's just hit the road."

Sarah smiled, settling into her seat as they pulled away from the curb.


Sarah zipped her duffel bag shut and hauled it off the bed. "Mark, are you bringing the big cooler or the small one?" she called down the hallway.

"Just the small one," Mark yelled back from the kitchen, his voice competing with the clatter of Tupperware. "We’re only staying two nights, and we said we’d eat out for dinners anyway."

Sarah nodded to herself, carrying her bag into the living room. They had rented a small cottage in Monterey for the weekend, a much-needed attempt to escape the relentless summer heat of the valley. It was their first real weekend away together since the holidays, and the anticipation felt surprisingly light.

Mark emerged from the kitchen, awkwardly balancing the red cooler, a canvas grocery bag full of snacks, and his stainless-steel travel mug. "I packed the turkey sandwiches for the drive, plus those pretzels you like."

"Perfect. Did you grab the phone chargers?"

"Got them," Mark said, setting his heavy load by the front door. He patted his jeans pockets in a familiar rhythm. "Wallet, keys, sunglasses. I think we’re set."

"Let me just double-check the back door," Sarah said, retreating toward the kitchen. She gave the deadbolt a firm tug—locked. She quickly adjusted the thermostat, bumping the AC up to seventy-eight degrees to save energy while they were gone, and grabbed her purse off the counter.

Ten minutes later, the trunk of their Honda was loaded. Mark adjusted his seatbelt, started the engine, and tapped the map app on the dashboard screen. "GPS says about two and a half hours. Traffic on the 101 isn't too bad yet."

"Thank goodness," Sarah sighed, leaning her seat back just a fraction and pulling up a road-trip playlist on her phone. "Let's go. I’m ready to see the ocean."

Mark smiled, shifting the car into reverse and pulling out of the driveway.


Sarah zipped the soft-sided cooler and set it by the front door next to her duffel bag.

"Did you grab the good coffee?" Mark called from the hallway, his voice muffled as he rummaged through the coat closet.

"I put it in the grocery bag with the filters and the trail mix," Sarah answered, double-checking her phone for the address of their weekend rental. "Did you find your hiking boots?"

Mark emerged holding a pair of scuffed brown boots. "Found them. They were pushed all the way to the back." He tossed them near his own overnight bag. "Are we taking my SUV or your sedan?"

"Let's take yours," Sarah said. "The tires are better for the gravel roads up in the Berkshires."

Mark nodded, scooping up his keys from the entry table. "Good call. I’ll go load the trunk. Can you make sure the back door is locked?"

Five minutes later, they were making their final sweeps of the house. Mark adjusted the thermostat down to sixty degrees while Sarah unplugged the toaster and turned off the kitchen lights. They stepped out into the crisp Saturday morning air, the familiar routine of departure executed with practiced ease.

Mark shut the trunk and climbed into the driver's seat. Sarah clicked her seatbelt and plugged her phone into the dashboard console.

"Map is set," she said, tapping the screen. "ETA is two hours and fifteen minutes."

Mark put the car in reverse and backed out of their suburban driveway. "Perfect. Do we want to stop at the drive-thru down the street, or wait until we hit the highway?"

"Let's stop now," Sarah said, already pulling up their favorite true-crime podcast. "I need an iced latte before we get on the interstate."


Sarah zipped her canvas duffel bag and leaned against the kitchen island. "Did you pack the heavy sweater, or just the fleece?" she asked, eyeing Mark as he scrolled through the weather app on his phone.

"Just the fleece," Mark replied, tapping the screen. "It says it’s going to hover around sixty degrees in Monterey all weekend. I think we’ll be fine unless the fog rolls in early." He set the phone down and reached for the soft-sided cooler by the pantry. "Are we filling this now, or grabbing ice at the gas station?"

"Gas station," Sarah said. "But put the leftover turkey sandwiches in there now so we don't forget them. I'm not paying fifteen dollars for a rest-stop lunch."

Mark chuckled, pulling the Tupperware from the fridge. "Spoken like a true financial planner."

The next morning, the house was a flurry of quiet, practiced routine. Mark carried the bags out to the Subaru, the crisp dawn air biting at his knuckles, while Sarah did the final sweep of the house. She lowered the thermostat to fifty-eight degrees, double-checked that the coffee maker was unplugged, and locked the front deadbolt behind her.

When she slid into the passenger seat, Mark handed her a travel mug of dark roast.

"You're a lifesaver," she sighed, wrapping her hands around the warm steel. She pulled up the map on the dashboard screen. "Traffic looks clear on the 101. Should take us about two and a half hours."

"Perfect," Mark said, shifting the car into drive. He checked his mirrors, glancing briefly at Sarah, who was already sipping her coffee and searching for a podcast. With a shared, subtle exhale of relief to leave the workweek behind, they pulled out of the driveway and headed toward the coast.


Sarah zipped her duffel bag shut with a final, decisive tug. "Did you check the weather in Monterey again?" she called down the hallway.

"Still mid-sixties and cloudy!" David shouted back from the kitchen. "I packed the windbreakers just in case. Do we want to take the small cooler with the leftover hummus?"

"Throw it in," Sarah said, emerging from the bedroom with her bag slung over her shoulder. "If we hit traffic on the 101, we'll definitely want a snack."

It was Friday afternoon, and they had exactly forty-eight hours to escape their cramped San Jose apartment for a quiet weekend on the coast. David met her at the front door, balancing the cooler, two travel mugs of coffee, and a tangle of charging cables. He looked mildly stressed, a familiar expression whenever they left the house.

"Keys, wallet, sunglasses?" he recited, patting his jacket pockets.

"Check, check, and check," Sarah said, taking the coffee mugs from him to free up his hands. "I watered the houseplants and made sure the stove was off. We're good to go."

They walked out into the mild California sunshine, the trunk of their Subaru popping open with a mechanical hum. David loaded the bags, rearranging the cooler twice before he was satisfied it wouldn't tip over on tight turns.

Once settled in the driver’s seat, David let out a long, audible exhale, the tension finally leaving his shoulders. He started the engine, connected his phone to the dashboard, and glanced over at Sarah. "So, true crime podcast or that new indie playlist?"

"Indie playlist," Sarah smiled, taking a warm sip of her coffee. "Let’s leave the murder mysteries for the drive back."

David put the car in drive, merging onto the street, finally leaving the work week in the rearview mirror.


Sarah zipped her duffel bag and set it by the front door. "Mark, did you grab the cooler?" she called toward the kitchen.

"Just washing out the thermoses!" Mark replied over the sound of running water. "Do we need the heavy jackets, or just fleeces? The weather app says it'll drop to forty-five up in the mountains."

"Bring the fleeces, but throw the heavy blankets in the trunk just in case," Sarah said, scrolling through her phone to find the confirmation email for the bed-and-breakfast.

Mark emerged from the kitchen wiping his hands on a dish towel, two travel mugs of dark roast coffee balanced in the crook of his arm. "Blankets are already in the trunk. I also grabbed the trail mix and those apples from the crisper so they don't go bad."

"Perfect." Sarah pocketed her phone and grabbed her keys from the entryway bowl. "Did you set the thermostat?"

"Down to sixty-two," Mark confirmed. He handed her a travel mug. "And the back door is locked."

They walked out into the crisp Friday morning air, their breaths visible in faint puffs. Mark popped the trunk of their Honda CR-V, tossing Sarah’s duffel next to his battered weekend bag and the small cooler. He slammed the trunk shut with a satisfying thud.

Settling into the driver's seat, Sarah adjusted the rearview mirror while Mark plugged his phone into the dashboard to pull up the GPS.

"It says the interstate is backed up near the north exit," Mark noted, tapping the screen. "We should take the state route. It adds twenty minutes, but it's a prettier drive anyway."

"State route it is," Sarah agreed, shifting the car into reverse. "Put on that folk playlist, will you? I am officially ready to be out of the city."

Mark smiled, tapped play, and they pulled out of the driveway.


Sarah zipped her canvas duffel bag, double-checking the weekend forecast on her phone. "It says it might rain Sunday morning, Mark. Did you pack your rain jacket?"

Mark called back from the kitchen, the refrigerator door opening with a soft suction sound. "I threw it in the trunk! Do you want me to pack the rest of our coffee, or should we just buy some at the local grocery store when we get there?"

Sarah walked down the hallway, lugging her bag. "Let's take what we have. No sense buying a whole new bag of beans for a two-night stay."

Mark nodded, tossing the half-empty bag of dark roast into a canvas tote along with a bunch of bananas and some trail mix. He grabbed the house keys from the ceramic bowl on the counter.

"Did you set the thermostat?" Sarah asked, pausing by the front door to tie her sneakers. "And make sure the back patio door is locked?"

"Down to sixty-two, and double-locked," Mark confirmed. He hoisted the small cooler they had packed with turkey, cheese, and sparkling water the night before.

Out in the driveway, the crisp Saturday morning air felt refreshing. Mark arranged the bags in the trunk of their SUV while Sarah climbed into the passenger seat, immediately plugging her phone into the dashboard cable.

"I'll navigate," she said, tapping the screen. "Google Maps says there's a minor accident on I-95, so it's routing us through the state highway. It adds about fifteen minutes to the drive."

Mark shut the trunk with a solid thud and settled behind the wheel. He put on his sunglasses, adjusted his rearview mirror, and smiled at his wife. "State highway is


The glow of the refrigerator illuminated Sarah’s face as she reorganized the cooler for the third time. "Mark, do we really need two blocks of cheddar for a two-day trip to the Poconos?"

"It's a cheese emergency precaution," Mark called from the hallway, where he was wrestling their shared canvas duffel bag closed. "Plus, we agreed we were going to actually make sandwiches this time instead of buying overpriced rest-stop food."

Sarah laughed, wedging the cheese between a carton of almond milk and a Tupperware of grapes. "Fair enough. Just don't complain when I make you eat it all." She zipped the cooler shut and hoisted it by the handles. "Can you grab the tote with the toiletries? I left it on the bathroom counter."

"Got it," Mark said, appearing in the kitchen a moment later with the tote hooked over his arm and his car keys dangling from his fingers. "I checked the weather app again. It’s supposed to drop into the low forties tonight. You packed that heavy gray fleece, right?"

"Packed it, along with the extra wool socks." Sarah grabbed her travel mug of coffee from the counter. "Are you good to drive the first leg, or do you want me to?"

"I'll drive," Mark offered, opening the front door and letting in a rush of brisk Friday afternoon air. "But only if I get veto power over the playlist."

"Deal. We can finish that true crime podcast you like."

They loaded the trunk of their Subaru, the familiar routine settling over them like a comfortable blanket. Mark double-checked the locks on the front door while Sarah adjusted the passenger seat. As he slid behind the wheel and started the engine, she pulled up the GPS on her phone.

"Two hours and ten minutes," she announced.

"Perfect," Mark smiled, pulling out of the driveway. "Let's get out of here."


Sarah zipped her duffel bag shut and carried it into the hallway. "Did you remember to pack your rain jacket?" she called out toward the bedroom. "The forecast said it might drizzle tomorrow."

"Got it," Mark replied, emerging with a canvas weekender bag slung over his shoulder. He paused to scratch their golden retriever, Barnaby, behind the ears. "My brother is picking him up in an hour, right?"

"Yeah, at six," Sarah said, checking her phone. "Which means we should hit the road by six-fifteen. If we take I-95, we’ll probably hit some Friday commuter traffic, but we’ll still reach the coast by eight."

Mark set his bag by the front door. "I’d rather take the scenic route on Route 1. It adds twenty minutes, but at least we'll be moving. Plus, we can stop at that diner we like for dinner."

Sarah considered it, sliding her sunglasses onto her head. "Okay, Route 1 works. Just let me grab the cooler."

They spent the next ten minutes engaging in their familiar pre-trip choreography. Sarah loaded a small cooler with sparkling water, grapes, and a half-eaten block of cheddar cheese from the fridge. Mark checked the locks on the back doors, adjusted the living room thermostat, and carried their bags out to the Honda parked in the driveway.

By the time Mark’s brother arrived to collect the dog, the trunk was fully loaded. After a flurry of goodbyes and tail-wags, Sarah climbed into the passenger seat and pulled up the GPS on the dashboard screen.

Mark started the engine and turned the air conditioning on low. "Do we need coffee before we get out of town?"

"Absolutely," Sarah said, buckling her seatbelt. "The drive-thru is right on the way."

Mark put the car in reverse, backing out of the driveway to begin their weekend away.


Mark stood in the hallway of their Ohio duplex, tossing the car keys from hand to hand. "Did you grab the phone chargers?" he called toward the bedroom.

"In the green duffel!" Sarah yelled back. She emerged a moment later, wrestling a heavy canvas tote bag onto her shoulder while balancing two insulated travel mugs. "I made coffee. Black for you, splash of oat milk for me."

"You are a lifesaver," Mark said, taking his mug and pressing a quick kiss to her cheek. He picked up the green duffel and the small cooler he’d packed with sparkling water and turkey sandwiches.

They walked out into the crisp October evening. The driveway was bathed in the orange glow of the streetlamp. Mark popped the trunk of the Honda, wedging their weekend bags between an emergency kit and a pair of folding chairs they’d neglected to unpack since Labor Day.

"Are we taking I-71?" Sarah asked as she settled into the passenger seat, pulling up the GPS on her phone.

"I was thinking we'd take the state routes," Mark said, starting the engine and turning on the headlights. "It only adds about twenty minutes to the drive, and we can completely avoid the Cincinnati rush hour traffic."

"Backroads it is," Sarah agreed, tapping the alternate route on her screen. "Estimated time of arrival is seven forty-five. Just in time to check into the cabin and grab dinner at that pub the host recommended."

Mark adjusted the rearview mirror and shifted into reverse. "Perfect. You want to pick a playlist, or should we just find a podcast?"

"Let's do the true crime one we started last week," she said, already scrolling through her app.

As the gravel crunched beneath their tires and they pulled onto the street, the lingering stress of the workweek finally began to fade.


Mark zipped his duffel bag with a final, satisfying tug. "Did you grab the phone chargers?" he asked, tossing the bag onto the foot of the bed.

Sarah walked in from the master bathroom, holding up a tangle of white cords. "Got them," she said, dropping them into her canvas weekender. "I also packed the good sunscreen. The weather app says it’ll actually hit seventy on the coast tomorrow."

"I'll believe it when I see it," Mark laughed, picking up both bags. "I'm going to load these in the trunk. Do we need to bring the cooler?"

Sarah paused, tapping her chin. "Let's bring the small one. We can grab sandwiches at the deli on the way out of town."

While Mark headed down to the garage, Sarah did her customary sweep of the house. She lowered the hallway thermostat to sixty-two, made sure the coffee pot was switched off, and double-checked the back door deadbolt. They had been looking forward to this long weekend away for months—just two nights at a quiet bed and breakfast near Cannon Beach, but it was exactly the reset they needed.

She met Mark outside. He had already backed the Honda out onto the driveway and was waiting with the engine running, adjusting the air conditioning.

"House secured?" he asked as she climbed into the passenger seat and pulled her seatbelt across her chest.

"Locked, cold, and dark," Sarah confirmed. She pulled up the GPS on her phone and connected it to the car's dashboard display. "Estimated time of arrival is two hours and fifteen minutes. Oh, wait, add ten minutes for the sandwich stop."

Mark shifted the car into drive and smiled. "Two and a half hours until vacation. Put on that acoustic playlist, will you?"

Sarah tapped the screen, the soft opening chords filling the cabin, and they rolled out toward the Friday afternoon highway.


Mark zipped the navy duffel bag shut and hauled it off the bed. "Is one sweater enough for the mountains this time of year?" he called down the hallway.

"Bring the fleece, just in case," Sarah replied from the kitchen. She stood over the island, scrolling through the GPS on her phone. "If we take Interstate 70, it says we'll hit Denver traffic, but the scenic route through the canyon adds forty-five minutes. What do you think?"

Mark appeared in the doorway, draping his jacket over his arm. "Let's do the scenic route. We’re in no rush to check into the Airbnb anyway. Plus, we can stop at that diner in Idaho Springs."

"Good call." Sarah locked her phone and picked up her travel mug. "I made extra coffee for the thermos. Did you grab the phone chargers?"

"Got them," Mark said, taking the thermos from the counter.

Within ten minutes, they were at the car in the driveway. The crisp Saturday morning air carried a slight chill, confirming Mark's decision to pack the extra fleece. He tossed the bags into the trunk of their Subaru while Sarah did a final sweep of the house—checking the stove, adjusting the thermostat, and locking the deadbolt.

She slid into the passenger seat and handed Mark his travel mug. "All set?"

"All set." Mark put the car in reverse, glancing over his shoulder as they pulled out of the driveway. "Playlist or podcast?"

"Let's start with a podcast," Sarah said, connecting her phone to the dashboard screen. "I downloaded that new investigative journalism one. We can switch to music once we hit the canyon."

Mark took a sip of the hot coffee, shifted the car into drive, and turned onto the main road, ready for the weekend.


The kitchen counter was a clutter of canvas bags, charging cables, and Tupperware. Sarah snapped the lid onto a container of leftover ziti. "We can just microwave this when we get to the cabin," she said, sliding it into the small blue cooler. "No sense in paying for a restaurant tonight."

"Works for me," Mark said. He was standing by the back door, scrolling through his phone. "Did you adjust the thermostat, or should I just do it from the app?"

"I set it to sixty-five," Sarah replied, zipping up her canvas duffel bag. She did a quick mental scan of the house. "Coffee maker is off. Back door is locked. Did you grab the dog food?"

"Already in the trunk." Mark pocketed his phone and picked up the cooler, shifting its weight against his hip. "I'll take this and the bags out. You grab Buster."

Ten minutes later, the Subaru was packed. Buster, their aging golden retriever, was already asleep in the backseat, his chin resting on a familiar fleece blanket. Sarah climbed into the passenger seat, adjusting the air conditioning vent before plugging her phone into the dashboard console.

Mark slid behind the wheel, hitting the ignition. The steady hum of the engine filled the quiet garage. "GPS says traffic on I-95 is pretty clear, but there's a slowdown near the bridge," he noted, shifting the car into reverse.

"Take the state route," Sarah suggested, pulling up the map on her own screen. "It only adds ten minutes, and we avoid the toll."

"State route it is." Mark backed down the driveway. As they pulled out of their subdivision and the setting sun filtered through the windshield, the lingering tension of the workweek finally began to evaporate. Sarah reached over, resting her hand lightly on his arm.

"Ready?" she asked.

"Ready," he smiled.


Sarah folded the last pair of hiking socks and zipped up the canvas duffel bag. "Did you remember to pack the phone chargers?" she called out, carrying the bag into the hallway of their suburban Ohio home.

Mark emerged from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a striped dish towel. "Got them. I also boxed up the leftover pasta for lunch tomorrow so we don't have to spend twenty bucks at a drive-thru on the way up."

"Perfect," Sarah said. She paused by the thermostat, adjusting the temperature down to sixty degrees for the weekend. "Are we taking your car or mine?"

"Let's take the Outback," Mark decided. "The cabin's driveway looked a little steep in the rental photos, and my tires have better tread."

Saturday morning arrived with a cool, overcast sky. By eight o'clock, they were standing in the driveway, loading the trunk. Mark tucked the duffel bag neatly beside a grocery tote filled with snacks, a bottle of wine, and their preferred coffee beans.

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

Sarah sighed, already buckling her seatbelt. "I thought you did."

Mark jogged back up the front steps, disappearing inside for a few seconds before returning. "False alarm, it was locked."

Once settled, Mark started the engine, the heater humming softly to combat the crisp autumn air. Sarah pulled up the navigation app on her phone, tapping in the address for their weekend getaway in the Hocking Hills.

"An hour and forty-five minutes," she announced, snapping her phone into the dashboard mount. "Do you want to finish that history podcast, or just do a playlist?"

"Let's do the podcast," Mark said, pulling out of their subdivision. As they merged onto the interstate, Sarah leaned her head back against the seat, quietly watching the familiar strip malls give way to open stretches of highway.


Sarah stood by the open suitcase on their bed, tossing in a pair of rolled-up jeans. "Did you check the weather for coastal Maine?" she called out.

Mark walked into the bedroom, carrying a stack of t-shirts. "Yeah, it’s supposed to be in the mid-sixties. Definitely bring a sweater," he said, dropping his clothes into his designated half of the luggage. "I figured we could leave right after I log off at four tomorrow. That way we beat the worst of the northbound traffic out of Boston."

Sarah nodded, adding a thick gray cardigan to the pile. "Perfect. I'll make sure the cooler is packed before you finish work. Do we have enough coffee for the Airbnb, or should we stop at the grocery store on the way?"

"Let's just bring the half-bag from the pantry," Mark said. "It’ll save us a stop."

By Friday afternoon, the lingering stress of the workweek had shifted into focused anticipation. Mark wrestled the suitcase into the trunk of their Honda sedan, wedging it securely next to Sarah’s meticulously packed cooler of sparkling water, cheese, and grapes.

"Got the phone chargers?" he asked, shutting the trunk with a solid thud.

"In my purse," Sarah replied, sliding into the passenger seat. She adjusted the air conditioning vents as Mark got in and started the engine. "The back door is locked, the thermostat is turned down to sixty-two, and I left a lamp on in the living room."

Mark backed out of the driveway, the familiar hum of the engine a comforting start to the weekend. "Navigation says two hours if we take the scenic route," he noted, tapping the dashboard screen.

"Let's do the scenic route," Sarah said, reaching over to queue up a playlist. "We're in no rush."

Mark smiled, easing the car onto the main road.


Sarah zipped her duffel bag on the kitchen island and checked the traffic on her phone. "Maps says I-95 is backed up near New Haven. We should probably take the Merritt Parkway instead."

Mark looked up from the open refrigerator, holding a half-empty carton of milk. "Toss or keep? It expires on Tuesday."

"Just pour it down the sink," Sarah said, slipping her phone into her back pocket. "Did you grab the extra phone charger?"

"Got it," Mark said. He rinsed the plastic carton and tossed it into the recycling bin. "The Merritt is fine, but you know how narrow those lanes get. You want me to drive the first leg?"

"Please. I’ll navigate and handle the coffee."

They were heading to a quiet bed and breakfast in Newport for the weekend—a modest two-night getaway they had been looking forward to for weeks.

Mark grabbed his weekend bag and the canvas tote filled with road trip snacks. "Alright, the thermostat is set to sixty-two. Did you lock the back door?"

"Double-checked it," Sarah replied, grabbing her sunglasses from the entryway table.

They stepped out into the crisp October morning, the suburban air smelling faintly of dried leaves and woodsmoke. Mark popped the trunk of their Subaru, tossing the bags inside with a familiar, muffled thud.

Once settled in the front seats, Sarah handed Mark a silver travel mug of dark roast. She adjusted her seat and the climate control while he started the engine.

"Music or podcast?" Mark asked, shifting the car into reverse.

"Let’s start with that acoustic playlist," Sarah said, connecting her phone to the Bluetooth. "We can switch to the true crime podcast once we hit the highway."

"Sounds like a plan." Mark backed out of the driveway and turned the car toward the open road.


Mark stood by the kitchen island, staring at the glowing screen of his phone. "Google Maps says I-95 is already backed up near the bridge. If we take the back roads, it adds twenty minutes, but at least we keep moving."

Sarah closed the dishwasher and pressed the delay start button. "Let's take the back roads. I can't stand sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic on a Friday afternoon." She grabbed her stainless-steel travel mug and filled it with the last of the morning's coffee. "Did you pack the phone chargers?"

"In the blue duffel," Mark said, pocketing his phone. He walked over to the hallway thermostat, tapping the down arrow until it read sixty-two degrees. "I think that’s everything. Plants are watered, trash is out."

"Wait, snacks." Sarah opened the pantry, emerging with a half-empty bag of pretzels and two granola bars. "We always say we'll stop for real food, and then we just end up eating overpriced gas station almonds."

Mark laughed and took the pretzels from her, tossing them into the canvas tote bag resting by the door. Together, they carried their luggage out to the driveway. The crisp autumn air held a slight chill, a hint of the weather they were driving toward in the mountains.

After securing the bags in the trunk of their Subaru, Mark settled into the driver’s seat while Sarah adjusted the climate control on her side.

"Spotify or a podcast?" Sarah asked, scrolling through her phone as the engine purred to life.

"Podcast for the first hour, then music," Mark decided, shifting into reverse. "Find that true crime one we started last month."

As they pulled out of the driveway and onto their quiet suburban street, Sarah hit play. The familiar voice of the podcast host filled the car, and Mark reached over to the center console, briefly squeezing her hand. The weekend had officially begun.


The kitchen island was a clutter of canvas duffels, coiled charging cables, and a half-empty box of granola bars.

"Did you remember to set the alarm?" David asked, zipping his overnight bag with a sharp tug.

Elena rinsed her coffee mug in the sink and placed it carefully in the dishwasher. "I haven't set it yet, but I lowered the thermostat to sixty-two. Do you have the passcode for the Airbnb? I know cell service gets spotty once we hit the mountains."

David patted his denim jacket pocket. "Screenshot is on my phone, and I wrote it down in the glovebox notebook." He glanced out the window at the fading Virginia sunlight. "If we leave in the next ten minutes, we can beat the worst of the I-66 traffic. But we'll probably have to grab dinner on the road. Drive-thru?"

"Let's just stop at that Panera near Front Royal," Elena suggested, grabbing the house keys from the brass hook by the door. "I'm not eating greasy fries in the car again. Last time you got ketchup on the center console."

David chuckled, hefting both bags over his shoulders. "That was one time, and it was a rogue fry. I'll load up the trunk. You want to do the final walkthrough?"

"On it."

While David navigated the narrow hallway out to their Subaru, Elena moved through the quiet house. She checked the stove burners—all off—made sure the back patio door was deadbolted, and left a single lamp on in the living room.

When she climbed into the passenger seat, the car was already running, the heater beginning to cut through the crisp October evening. David shifted into reverse, checking his mirrors.

"GPS says two hours," he said.

"Perfect," Elena replied, leaning back with a sigh. "Let's go."


Sarah stood by the kitchen island, scrolling through the weather app on her phone. "It says it might rain Sunday morning, so we should probably do the longer hiking trail tomorrow afternoon."

Mark looked up from the cooler he was wrestling closed. "Works for me. Did you grab the trail mix? I can't find it in the pantry."

"It’s already in my green backpack," Sarah said, picking up her empty travel mug. "Along with the phone chargers and the dog's leash."

"Perfect." Mark hoisted the heavy cooler by its handles. "I'll load this into the trunk. You want to wrangle Buster?"

Buster, a scruffy terrier mix, was already pacing by the front door, sensing the impending change in routine. Sarah clipped on his harness while Mark made two trips to the Honda CR-V parked in their driveway.

Ten minutes later, the front door was locked, the thermostat was set to sixty-five degrees, and the three of them were settled into the car. Mark adjusted the rearview mirror and glanced over at his wife.

"Do you want to drive the first shift, or should I?" he asked, putting the car in reverse.

"I'll drive once we get off the interstate," Sarah replied, tapping the address into the dashboard GPS. "The cabin is about two and a half hours away. Let's just make sure we stop at the drive-thru near the highway entrance. I need an iced coffee if I'm going to survive the morning traffic on I-71."

"One iced coffee coming up," Mark said, shifting into drive. He turned on their shared road-trip playlist, the familiar opening chords of an old Fleetwood Mac song filling the car. The morning sun was just starting to burn off the dew as they merged onto the main road, leaving their quiet suburban street behind for the weekend.


"The forecast says it might dip into the forties tonight," Sarah called out from the kitchen island, scrolling through the weather app on her phone. "Did you pack your heavy fleece?"

Mark appeared at the bottom of the stairs, a worn canvas duffel bag slung over his shoulder. "I grabbed the green one. Is that warm enough, or should I go back up for my winter coat?"

"The fleece is fine," she decided, tossing her phone into her purse. "It’s only a two-day trip to the Berkshires, not an arctic expedition."

Mark chuckled, dropping the bag by the front door next to her suitcase. "Fair point. Did you remember the trail mix?"

"Already in the canvas tote with the thermos," Sarah said. She poured the last of the French press coffee into two travel mugs, carefully securing the lids. They had booked the bed and breakfast over a month ago, craving a quiet weekend away from their frantic work schedules in Boston.

Mark grabbed his keyring from the ceramic bowl on the entryway table. "I'll load the trunk. You want me to get the heater going?"

"Yes, please. I just need to water the pothos and double-check the deadbolt on the back door."

Ten minutes later, Sarah slid into the passenger seat of their Subaru, bringing the rich scent of dark roast coffee with her. She handed Mark his travel mug.

"GPS says the Turnpike is backed up near Worcester," Mark noted, tapping the dashboard screen. "We could take Route 2 instead. It's twenty minutes longer, but the scenery is better."

"Let's do Route 2," Sarah agreed, blowing on her coffee. "We're in no rush."

Mark shifted into reverse and checked his mirrors. With a shared, quiet sigh of relief, they backed out of the driveway, leaving the house and the week's stress behind them.


Mark stood at the kitchen island, scrolling through Google Maps on his phone. "If we take I-87 north, we’ll hit a wall of construction near Albany," he said, taking a sip of his lukewarm coffee. "Route 9W adds twenty minutes, but at least it's moving."

Sarah closed the refrigerator door with a soft thud, a half-empty carton of milk in her hand. "Let's just take the scenic route. I’d rather look at the river than stare at taillights for our entire Saturday." She poured the remaining milk down the drain so it wouldn't spoil and rinsed the carton. "Did you grab the small cooler?"

"Already in the trunk," Mark replied, sliding his phone into his pocket. "Along with your hiking boots and the grocery bag."

"Perfect." Sarah wiped down the counter one last time, tossing the damp dish towel over the faucet. They had been planning this quick weekend trip to the Catskills for a month, mostly to disconnect from their work laptops.

She grabbed her canvas tote bag and the ring of house keys. Mark met her at the front door, shrugging into his fleece jacket. He waited on the porch while Sarah locked the deadbolt, giving the knob a firm, extra tug to make sure it was secure—a habit she couldn't break.

The crisp October air greeted them as they walked down the driveway to their Subaru. Mark popped the trunk to rearrange his canvas duffel bag, making room for Sarah’s tote, before slamming the hatch shut.

"You want to drive first, or should I?" Sarah asked, hovering by the passenger side.

"I'll drive," Mark said, settling behind the wheel. "But you're in charge of the playlist. And finding a drive-thru. I need a real coffee if we're taking the long way."

Sarah smiled, pulling her seatbelt across her chest. "Deal. Next stop, Dunkin'."


Mark stared into the open refrigerator, assessing the perishables. "We have half a carton of milk and two yogurts," he called out to the hallway. "Eat them, toss them, or leave them?"

Elena walked into the kitchen, folding a printout of their hotel reservation. "Leave the milk, eat the yogurt. We’re only going down to Monterey for two nights. It won't spoil by Sunday."

"Deal," Mark said, grabbing a spoon. "Did you check the weather?"

"Mid-sixties and breezy," Elena replied, leaning against the counter. "I packed my windbreaker, and I threw yours in the duffel too. You always forget it, and then you shiver the whole time we're near the water."

"Thank you. What time are we hitting the road tomorrow?"

"If we leave by eight, we miss the worst of the Bay Area traffic and make it there for an early lunch."

The next morning, the house was a flurry of practiced efficiency. At seven-forty-five, Mark carried their shared canvas duffel bag to the driveway, tossing it into the trunk of the Honda CR-V next to a tote bag of road snacks.

Elena locked the front door, rattling the knob twice—a habit she couldn't break—before walking down the porch steps. She carried two insulated travel mugs, offering the silver one to Mark as he climbed into the driver's seat.

"Dark roast, splash of oat milk," she said, settling into the passenger seat and buckling her belt.

"You're a lifesaver," Mark said, taking a cautious sip. He adjusted his mirrors, glanced over his shoulder, and backed out of the driveway. "GPS says two hours and fifteen minutes. Did you grab the toll pass?"

Elena tapped the center console. "Right here. Let's go."

As they turned out of their subdivision, Mark reached over to turn on the radio, settling into the familiar, comfortable rhythm of their weekend escape.


Sarah zipped her duffel bag shut and carried it down the hallway, finding Mark in the kitchen peering into the open refrigerator.

"Are we bringing the leftover pasta, or should I toss it?" he asked, scratching the back of his neck.

"Toss it," Sarah said, setting her bag by the front door. "We’re supposed to be on vacation. I am not eating microwaved ziti at a cabin in the Shenandoahs."

Mark chuckled and dumped the Tupperware contents into the trash. "Fair enough. Did you grab the phone chargers?"

"Got them. And the travel mugs." She walked over to the hallway thermostat, tapping the down arrow until the digital display rested at sixty-two degrees. "Do you want to drive first, or should I?"

"I can take the first shift," Mark offered, grabbing his keys from the ceramic bowl on the counter. "The traffic on I-81 shouldn't be too terrible right now, but I want to get past the suburbs before it gets totally dark."

Together, they carried their bags out to the Honda. The October evening air was crisp, carrying the faint, familiar smell of their neighbor’s woodsmoke. Mark popped the trunk, wedging Sarah’s duffel next to his battered weekend bag and the canvas tote of road trip snacks they had bought at Target the night before.

Sarah slid into the passenger seat, immediately plugging her phone into the center console. "I queued up that true-crime podcast we started last month. Unless you want music?"

"Podcast is perfect," Mark said, pulling his seatbelt across his chest. He put the car in reverse, glancing over his shoulder as they backed out of the driveway. As the tires met the asphalt, Sarah let out a long, audible exhale, the accumulated stress of the workweek finally beginning to dissipate.

"Alright," Mark said, smiling as he shifted into drive. "Let's get out of here."


Sarah zipped up her canvas duffel bag and dropped it by the front door. "Did you remember the phone chargers?" she called out toward the hallway.

"Got them," Mark replied, emerging from the bedroom with his own worn backpack. "And I packed the good coffee. I read the reviews for the Airbnb, and apparently, their drip machine is ancient, but the host provides a French press."

"You're a lifesaver," Sarah said, checking the map app on her phone. "Traffic on I-95 isn't terrible right now, but if we don't leave in the next twenty minutes, we'll hit the worst of the Friday spillover."

Mark nodded, grabbing his keys from the ceramic bowl on the kitchen counter. "I'll go load up the car while you check the thermostat. Do we need to bring the cooler?"

"Just the small one for the leftover pasta and the cheddar we bought," she said. "I'll grab it."

They moved with the practiced choreography of a couple who had lived together for five years. While Mark situated the bags and the cooler in the trunk of their Subaru, Sarah filled two insulated mugs with ice water, bumped down the air conditioning, and double-checked the back door lock.

Minutes later, they were pulling out of their driveway. The suburban street was quiet, the late afternoon sun casting long, golden shadows across their neighbors' lawns.

"Do you want to stop somewhere for dinner, or just eat when we get to the cabin?" Mark asked, putting his blinker on to merge onto the main avenue.

"Let's push through to that diner near the exit," Sarah suggested, reclining her passenger seat just a fraction. "The one with the good cherry pie."

"Sounds like a plan." Mark smiled, turning up the volume on their road-trip playlist as they headed toward the highway, leaving the work week behind them.


Sarah leaned against the kitchen island, scrolling through the map on her phone. "If we leave in the next ten minutes, we'll hit the interstate just ahead of rush hour," she said, tapping the screen. "Should we stop at a sit-down place for dinner, or just grab drive-thru?"

Mark hoisted their shared canvas duffel bag onto his shoulder. "Let's just do drive-thru. I want to get to the cabin before it gets completely dark. The rental listing said the dirt driveway is steep and hard to see at night."

"Good point," Sarah agreed. She grabbed the small cooler from the counter, double-checking that she had packed the leftover grapes, a few bottles of water, and the sharp cheddar they hadn't finished earlier in the week. "Did you check the cat's water?"

"Filled his bowl and the automatic feeder," Mark called out, pausing in the hallway. "And I turned the thermostat down to sixty-two."

"Perfect." Sarah locked the back patio door, grabbed her sunglasses from the entryway table, and followed him out into the mild Friday afternoon.

The air smelled faintly of cut grass as they loaded the trunk of their Subaru. Mark tossed his jacket into the backseat and slid behind the steering wheel. Sarah settled into the passenger side, immediately plugging her phone into the dashboard console.

"GPS is set," she announced, the map glowing on the car's display screen. She adjusted the air conditioning vent toward her face. "ETA is two hours and fifteen minutes."

Mark started the engine, putting the car in reverse and glancing over his shoulder as they backed out of the driveway. "Wait, did you remember the phone chargers?"

Sarah smiled, reaching into her tote bag and holding up a tangle of white cords. "Of course. Let's get out of here."

Mark shifted into drive, pulling out of their quiet suburban neighborhood, both of them ready for the weekend to finally begin.


Sarah zipped her duffel bag with a sharp tug, the canvas straining slightly over an extra pair of hiking boots she probably wouldn’t need. "Did you grab the small cooler?" she called down the hallway.

Mark emerged from the kitchen, balancing a tote bag of dry snacks and a tangle of phone chargers. "Got it. I put the turkey sandwiches on top so they don't get crushed by the seltzers." He dropped the tote by the front door and checked his pockets for his wallet. "Are we taking the interstate or the scenic route?"

"Let's stick to the highway," Sarah said, joining him in the foyer. She handed him her rain jacket. "If we leave now, we can beat the worst of the Friday afternoon traffic and get to the Airbnb before dark."

"Highway it is," Mark agreed. "But I need coffee first. Mind if we hit the drive-thru on the way out of town?"

"Only if I get a pastry," she countered with a smile.

They carried their bags out to the Subaru. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across their suburban driveway. Mark arranged the luggage in the trunk, playing his usual game of Tetris to make sure the cooler was easily accessible from the backseat. Sarah climbed into the passenger seat and pulled up the GPS on her phone, typing in the address for the cabin in the Blue Ridge Mountains.

"Three hours and twelve minutes," she announced as Mark slid behind the wheel and started the engine.

"Not bad at all," he said, adjusting his rearview mirror. "I'll drive the first half, and you take over after we stop for gas?"

"Deal." Sarah connected her phone to the Bluetooth, queuing up a familiar playlist. As they pulled out of the neighborhood and headed toward the highway, the lingering stress of the workweek finally began to fade.


Mark wrestled the zipper closed on the canvas duffel bag, giving it a final, satisfying pat. "I think that’s everything," he called down the hallway. "Did you pack the phone chargers?"

"Got them in my purse," Sarah shouted back from the kitchen. She was standing in front of the open refrigerator, evaluating its sparse contents. "Do we need to toss this milk before we leave?"

Mark appeared in the doorway, hoisting the heavy bag onto his shoulder. "It’ll probably be sour by Sunday night. Better dump it."

While Sarah rinsed the plastic jug out in the sink, Mark double-checked the backdoor deadbolt. It was a crisp Friday evening in October, and they were finally taking a long-overdue weekend trip to a small bed and breakfast on the Oregon coast.

"Thermostat is set to sixty-two," Sarah announced, wiping her hands on a dish towel. She picked up her travel mug and keys from the counter. "Did you feed Buster?"

"Filled his bowl and gave him the weekend gravity feeder," Mark assured her, opening the front door. "Mrs. Gable next door said she’d check on him tomorrow afternoon just in case."

They walked out into the cool evening air, the driveway illuminated by the amber glow of the porch light. Mark tossed their luggage into the trunk of the sedan while Sarah settled into the passenger seat, immediately plugging her phone into the dashboard to pull up the navigation app.

"Maps says I-5 South is backed up near the bridge," she noted as Mark slid behind the steering wheel and started the engine. "We could take the scenic route down Highway 99. It adds twenty minutes, but at least we'll keep moving."

"Highway 99 it is," Mark agreed. He put the car in reverse, letting out a long exhale that carried the last of the workweek's stress away with it.


Mark zipped his canvas duffel bag, pressing down on the sides to flatten a bulky fleece pullover. "Did you pack the rain jackets?" he called out toward the hallway.

Sarah appeared in the bedroom doorway, holding two empty insulated travel mugs. "I checked the forecast again. It’s supposed to be clear in Cape May all weekend, but I grabbed them anyway. The coast is always windy in October."

"Good call," Mark said, hefting the bag off the bed. "Do we need to stop for gas, or did you fill up the Honda after work?"

"I filled it up," Sarah said, heading toward the kitchen to prep the coffee maker for the morning. "But we definitely need road snacks. I’m not doing a three-hour drive on the Parkway without pretzels and peanut butter cups."

Mark chuckled, following her down the hall. "Pretzels it is. We can hit the convenience store right by the highway."

Saturday morning brought a familiar flurry of routine chores. Sarah watered the drooping pothos plant on the kitchen windowsill while Mark adjusted the hallway thermostat, bumping it down to sixty-two degrees to save on the weekend heating bill.

"Got the phone chargers?" Sarah asked, tossing her tote bag onto the backseat of the sedan.

"In the center console," Mark confirmed. He pulled the front door shut, pausing to rattle the knob twice to ensure the deadbolt had caught—an anxious habit they had both adopted over five years of marriage.

Settling into the driver’s seat, Mark started the engine while Sarah queued up a new history podcast on her phone and synced it to the car's Bluetooth. She handed him one of the travel mugs, the rich scent of dark roast filling the cabin.

"GPS says two and a half hours, depending on bridge traffic," she said, buckling her seatbelt.

"Perfect," Mark smiled, shifting the car into drive. "Let's get out of here."