Maya wrestled the zipper of her duffel bag closed, sitting back on their shared bed with a sigh. "Did you pack the rain jackets?" she called out to the living room.

"I put them in the trunk already," Sam yelled back, appearing in the bedroom doorway with a half-empty bag of pretzels and two steaming travel mugs. "Coffee for the road. And I figured we’d need car snacks before we hit the highway."

Maya smiled, grabbing her bag. "You’re a lifesaver. Did you remember to water the pothos?"

"Watered and moved away from the radiator," Sam confirmed. He took her duffel, slinging it over his shoulder alongside his own battered backpack.

They had been living together in their cramped Seattle apartment for three years, but getting out the door for a weekend trip always involved the same low-stakes, chaotic checklist. They were driving two hours north to Bellingham for a quiet weekend in a cheap Airbnb—nothing extravagant, just two days away from their glowing office monitors.

In the hallway, Maya locked the deadbolt, double-checking the handle out of habit. Downstairs in the parking garage, they tossed their bags into the trunk of Sam’s aging Subaru.

"Do you want me to drive first, or do you want to navigate?" Maya asked, pausing by the passenger door.

"I'll drive," Sam said, sliding behind the wheel. "You're better at picking the audio anyway. Just queue up that history podcast we started last week."

Maya settled into the passenger seat, adjusting the heat and plugging her phone into the dashboard. The familiar scent of stale coffee and pine air freshener comforted her. As Sam navigated out of the dimly lit garage and merged onto the busy Friday afternoon interstate, Maya felt the tight knots in her shoulders finally begin to loosen.


Maya leaned against the kitchen island, scrolling through the weather app on her phone. "It's supposed to drop to the low forties up at the lake tomorrow night," she said, looking over at Liam. "Did you pack your heavy fleece?"

Liam paused over the open cooler on the living room floor. He was meticulously arranging Tupperware containers of leftover pasta and a six-pack of local pale ale. "I grabbed the gray one. And the extra quilt from the guest room, just in case." He shut the cooler lid with a satisfying *thump*. "Are we good on groceries, or do we need to hit the Wegmans on the way out?"

"We have enough for breakfast," Maya decided, double-checking their shared digital checklist. "We can just grab lunch in town once we check into the Airbnb. Oh, can you water the pothos before we leave? I'll take out the kitchen trash."

They moved through the familiar choreography of two people used to sharing a space. It was their first weekend away in months, a much-needed two-night escape from their crowded inbox queues. While Maya tied off the garbage bag and checked the thermostat, Liam grabbed the watering can, giving the droopy plant by the window a quick soak.

Fifteen minutes later, they were hauling their duffel bags out to the parking lot and loading the trunk of Liam’s Subaru. Maya claimed the passenger seat, immediately plugging her phone into the dashboard to bring up the GPS. "It says two hours and ten minutes if we take the interstate."

"Let's do it," Liam said, sliding into the driver's seat and adjusting his mirror. "But only if I get veto power over the playlist for the first hour."

"Deal," Maya smiled, opening Spotify. "Stop at the drive-thru for coffee first?"

"Always." Liam shifted into drive, and they pulled out of the apartment complex, turning north toward the highway.


Maya shoved her hiking boots into the bottom of the shared canvas duffel bag, making room for Ben’s thick wool sweaters.

"Did you check if the Airbnb has a French press?" she called out from the bedroom.

Ben leaned against the doorframe, scrolling through his phone. "The host's listing just says 'fully stocked kitchen,' but I’ll pack our travel coffee maker just in case. I'm not risking three days in the Catskills with only instant coffee."

"Good call." Maya zipped the bag shut. "If we leave by seven tomorrow, we should beat the worst of the bridge traffic. Do you want to drive first?"

"Sure. I'll drive, you DJ," Ben agreed, tossing her a tangle of phone chargers. "Just don't forget to lower the thermostat before we go. Last time we went away, our heating bill was astronomical."

The next morning came with a flurry of quiet, practiced routine. At 6:45 a.m., Ben lugged the heavy duffel down the apartment stairs while Maya did a final sweep of their home. She unplugged the toaster, set the living room thermostat to sixty degrees, and double-checked that the sliding balcony door was locked.

When she finally climbed into the passenger seat of Ben’s dusty Subaru, the heater was already blasting. He handed her a travel mug radiating warmth.

"Turkey sandwiches and water bottles are in the cooler behind your seat," Ben said, checking his mirrors and shifting the car into drive. "I figured we'd stop for gas once we hit the highway."

"Perfect." Maya took a careful sip of the dark roast and opened the music app on her phone, queuing up a playlist they had slowly curated over their three years of living together. She leaned her head back against the headrest, watching the early morning suburban sprawl blur past the window.


"Are we taking the cooler?" Mark called out from the kitchen, the refrigerator door humming quietly as it hung open.

Sarah pressed her knee into the overstuffed canvas duffel bag on their mattress. "Just the small one," she replied, finally wrestling the brass zipper closed. "We only need it for the oat milk and the leftover turkey sandwiches. We can buy beer when we get there."

By seven o'clock on Saturday morning, their apartment was a flurry of practiced, sleepy efficiency. Mark did the final sweep of the rooms, checking the gas stove dials—all pointing safely upward—while Sarah gave the drooping pothos plant by the window a quick drink of water.

"Got the toll pass?" she asked, slinging her heavy tote bag over one shoulder and grabbing her sunglasses.

"Always in the glovebox," Mark said, jingling the car keys by the front door. "Thermostat is set to sixty-two. Let's go."

They navigated the two flights of stairs to the apartment parking lot. The crisp autumn air practically demanded a weekend away at a rented cabin in the Catskills. Mark tossed the duffel and the small cooler into the trunk of his Honda Civic, slamming it shut with a solid metallic thud.

Sarah climbed into the passenger seat and immediately plugged her phone into the center console. "True crime podcast or music?"

"Let's start with music. Put on that autumn playlist," Mark said, checking his mirrors and backing out of their assigned spot. "And map us to that diner in New Paltz first. I need a real coffee before we lose cell service in the mountains."

Sarah typed the address into the GPS. "Two hours and fifteen minutes. Not bad." She reached over, resting her hand casually on his shoulder as they merged onto the interstate.


Maya zipped the canvas duffel bag closed, giving it a final pat before dragging it off the mattress.

"Did you remember the good coffee?" Liam called from the kitchen, the refrigerator door shutting with a soft thud.

"I put the French roast in the tote bag!" Maya yelled back, grabbing her denim jacket from the closet. She walked into the living area to find Liam wrestling two overflowing grocery bags into a single, sturdier canvas tote.

"We’re only going to the Poconos for two nights, but somehow we have enough snacks for a month," Liam said, chuckling as he wedged a box of crackers next to a bunch of bananas.

"Better safe than sorry. The Airbnb host said the nearest grocery store is twenty minutes away." Maya checked her phone. "It’s already four-thirty. If we don’t leave now, we’re going to hit terrible traffic on I-80."

"Right. I’ve got the cooler. Can you grab my backpack?"

They did their standard apartment sweep: Maya checked the stove dials twice, while Liam made sure the thermostat was lowered. Satisfied, they locked the deadbolt behind them and carried their gear down the apartment stairs to Liam's Subaru.

As Liam arranged the bags in the trunk, Maya slipped into the passenger seat and pulled up the GPS on her phone. "It says two hours and fifteen minutes if we take the highway, or two and a half if we take the scenic route."

Liam climbed into the driver’s seat, starting the ignition. "Let's stick to the highway. I just want to get there, drop my bags, and open a beer."

"Highway it is," Maya agreed, plugging her phone into the center console to start their road-trip playlist. As they pulled out of the apartment complex, the exhaustion of the workweek finally began to fade.


Maya zipped her canvas duffel bag and set it by the front door of their apartment. "Did you remember the coffee beans?" she called out, glancing toward the kitchen.

Sam emerged holding a bag of dark roast in one hand and a half-empty box of crackers in the other. "Got the beans. And I’m taking these for the road." He shoved the coffee into his worn leather backpack. "Are we taking the toll road or the scenic route?"

Maya checked her phone, tapping her maps app. "Toll road saves us forty minutes, but we’re not in a rush. Let's do the scenic route. I want to see the leaves changing."

"Scenic it is," Sam agreed, tossing her the car keys. "You drive first, I'll DJ?"

"Deal. Just don't put on that experimental jazz playlist again." Maya smiled, double-checking the lock on the sliding glass door. They had been living in their cramped Chicago apartment for three years, and this quiet weekend in a rented Michigan cabin was desperately needed.

Sam unplugged the toaster and checked the stove burners out of habit. "All clear here. Ready?"

They grabbed their bags and headed down to the parking garage. The October air was brisk. As they loaded the trunk of Maya’s hatchback, a brief debate ensued over the cooler placement, ultimately solved by Sam wedging it behind the passenger seat for easy access to the sparkling water.

Once settled in the car, Maya adjusted her mirrors while Sam synced his phone to the Bluetooth. A familiar indie folk song filled the cabin.

"Seatbelt," she reminded him gently.

Sam clicked it into place. "Destination set. Next stop: nowhere near a spreadsheet."

Maya laughed, shifting into drive. She merged out onto the street, the stress of the workweek already beginning to fade in the rearview mirror.


The zipper of the canvas duffel bag stuck halfway, prompting a heavy sigh from David. "Do we really need three pairs of shoes for a two-night stay in Asheville?" he called out from the bedroom.

Elena appeared in the doorway, a travel mug of coffee in one hand and her phone in the other. "One for hiking, one for walking around town, and one for dinner. Yes, we do," she stated, taking the bag from him and expertly jiggling the zipper past the snag. "Besides, we’re driving. It’s not like we’re paying for checked bags."

"Fair enough," David conceded, grabbing his much lighter backpack. "Did you pause the mail?"

"Yesterday. And I watered the pothos." Elena tapped the screen of her phone. "GPS says traffic on I-40 isn't terrible right now, but we should still get moving if we want to beat the afternoon pileup near Knoxville."

They moved through their shared apartment in a practiced choreography. David lowered the thermostat to sixty-two degrees to save on the heating bill while Elena checked the burners on the electric stove, a lingering anxious habit from her twenties. At the front door, they paused.

"Got your wallet?" Elena asked.

"In my jacket. Keys?"

"In my hand," she smiled, pulling the door shut and locking the deadbolt with a solid click.

Down in the apartment complex's parking garage, the chilly Friday afternoon air smelled vaguely of damp concrete. David tossed their bags into the trunk of their Honda Civic while Elena settled into the passenger seat and synced her phone to the car's Bluetooth.

"Are we doing the true crime podcast or the history one?" she asked as David slid behind the wheel.

"History," he said, pulling out of the parking space. "I’d like to make it to the mountains without feeling paranoid."


Maya tossed a bag of pretzels into the canvas tote on the kitchen island, then added a cluster of apples. "Are we making coffee at home or stopping on the way?" she called out.

From the bedroom, Liam emerged holding two jackets. "Let's make it here. That drive-thru off the interstate always burns the beans." He dropped a heavy fleece jacket and a lighter windbreaker on the sofa. "The weather app says it’s dropping to the forties in the Catskills tonight. Should I bring the winter coat just in case?"

Maya walked over and inspected the pile. "You’ll overheat in the winter coat. Just bring the fleece and a hoodie." She handed him his toiletry bag. "Did you grab the extra phone chargers?"

"Got them," Liam said, zipping his duffel bag. "I also packed the good hiking boots. I figure we can tackle the overlook trail tomorrow morning before it gets crowded."

"Sounds perfect." Maya smiled, leaning in to kiss his cheek. "I'll drive the first leg if you navigate."

The next morning, their departure was a practiced routine. Liam adjusted the apartment thermostat down to sixty-five degrees while Maya watered the wilting pothos plant by the window. They met at the front door, double-checking their pockets for keys and wallets before pulling the door shut and locking the deadbolt.

In the parking lot, the crisp morning air hinted at the coming autumn. Liam loaded their two duffel bags into the trunk of their hatchback while Maya settled into the driver’s seat, plugging her phone into the console to pull up the GPS.

Liam climbed into the passenger side, blowing on his steaming travel mug. "ETA is exactly two hours and fifteen minutes," he announced.

"Playlist is ready," Maya said, shifting the car into drive. "Let's get out of here."


Maya zipped her canvas duffel bag and hoisted it off the bed. "Did you grab the phone charger?" she called out, pausing to double-check the bedroom window lock.

"The long one or the short one?" Liam shouted back from the kitchen. The refrigerator door thumped shut.

"The long one! The outlet at that Airbnb looked really far from the bed in the pictures."

Liam appeared in the hallway, holding two travel mugs and a coiled white cord. "Got it. And I made coffee. We should probably hit the road before traffic backs up on I-95."

"You're a lifesaver," Maya said, taking the mug. She took a tentative sip—perfectly hot, just a splash of oat milk, exactly how she liked it. "I’ll drive the first leg if you want to navigate."

"Deal," Liam said. He hoisted his own backpack and the canvas tote bag filled with the pretzels and apples they’d hastily bought the night before.

They walked out to the apartment parking lot, the crisp Saturday morning air carrying a faint chill. Maya popped the trunk of her Honda Civic. Liam arranged the bags, deliberately tucking the snack tote behind the passenger seat for easy access.

Once inside the car, Maya adjusted her rearview mirror while Liam plugged his phone into the dashboard console. "Apple Maps says it’s two hours and forty minutes to the cabin," he announced. "No tolls?"

"No tolls," Maya agreed, shifting the car into reverse. "Let's save the five bucks for a coffee stop later. Did you queue up that playlist you made?"

Liam grinned, tapping the screen. A mellow indie-folk track filled the car. As Maya steered them out of the complex and toward the highway on-ramp, Liam leaned back in his seat. "Alright," he said. "Let's go look at some trees."


Maya pressed her weight against the overstuffed duffel bag, finally yanking the zipper shut. "Liam, did you pack the phone chargers?" she called toward the kitchen.

"Got two of them in the center console," Liam shouted back. The refrigerator door thumped shut. "I threw out the expired milk, but the leftover lasagna should survive until Sunday. Are we taking the toll road or the scenic route?"

Maya hauled the bag into the narrow hallway of their apartment. "Let’s do the toll road. I want to get to the cabin before it gets completely dark. We can take the lake route on the way back."

Liam emerged holding a canvas tote bulging with snacks—mostly pretzels, apples, and the dark chocolate Maya liked. He handed her a steaming travel mug of coffee. "Fair enough. You want to drive first, or should I?"

"I'll drive," Maya said, taking a grateful sip of the coffee. "But you’re on DJ duty. I can't listen to another true crime podcast today."

They did their standard departure sweep: Liam lowered the thermostat to sixty-two degrees while Maya double-checked that the oven was off and locked the deadbolt. Down in the parking garage, the chilly Friday afternoon air reminded them why they were so eager to escape the city. Liam tossed the bags into the trunk of their Honda Civic, wedging the snack tote behind the passenger seat for easy access.

Once they were buckled in, Liam pulled up the GPS on his phone and connected it to the car's Bluetooth. The dashboard screen illuminated with a glowing blue line pointing north toward Wisconsin.

"ETA is three hours and fifteen minutes," Liam announced, scrolling through his playlists. "Assuming we don't hit terrible traffic on I-94."

"We will," Maya laughed, shifting the car into drive. "Just play the music."


The trunk of Liam’s Subaru slammed shut with a muffled thud. He double-checked the latch, turning back toward the open front door of their shared townhouse. "Okay, the cooler and both duffel bags are in," he called out. "Did you grab the phone chargers?"

Maya appeared in the doorway, a steaming travel mug in one hand and a tangle of white cords in the other. "Got them," she said, using her hip to bump the screen door open. "And I filled up the water bottles. Did you remember to turn the thermostat down?"

"Set to sixty-two," Liam confirmed, taking the cords from her and tossing them onto the passenger seat.

They had been planning this two-night trip to the Shenandoah Valley for a month, though the actual packing had been left entirely to a frantic hour on Friday night. Now, at eight on a brisk Saturday morning, the relaxing reality of the weekend was finally settling in.

Maya locked the front door, pulling the handle twice to make sure it caught—a habit Liam had long stopped teasing her about. She walked over to the car and slid into the passenger seat while Liam got behind the wheel.

"Are we taking I-66 or the back roads?" Liam asked, starting the engine. The dashboard lit up, connecting to his phone automatically.

"Maps says the interstate is actually clear right now, so let's just get the highway driving out of the way," Maya said, tapping the screen on the center console. "We can take the scenic route on the way back on Sunday. Podcast or music?"

"Let's start with music until we stop for real coffee," Liam decided, putting the car in reverse.

Maya nodded, queueing up their shared road-trip playlist as they backed out of the driveway, settling in for the drive ahead.


Mark zipped his canvas duffel bag and set it by the front door. In the kitchen, Sarah was staring into the open refrigerator, evaluating the week’s leftovers.

"Do you think this milk will still be good by Sunday night?" she called out, pulling a half-empty carton from the shelf.

"Probably not," Mark said, walking into the kitchen. "Just toss it. Or we can put it in the cooler for the road."

"Cooler it is," Sarah decided, placing the milk next to a container of grapes and a block of sharp cheddar. "We’re going to need snacks for the drive anyway."

They had rented a small Airbnb in Astoria for the weekend, a much-needed bid to escape their cramped Portland apartment and the endless cycle of work emails. It was only a two-hour drive, but the preparation still required their usual division of labor. Mark handled the electronics, gathering chargers and the portable speaker, while Sarah organized the snacks and double-checked their shared toiletry bag.

"Are we still aiming to leave by eight tomorrow?" Mark asked, leaning against the counter.

Sarah sighed, wiping down the kitchen island. "Make it eight-thirty. I want to grab a decent coffee from down the street before we get on the highway. Not the gas station stuff."

"Deal," Mark smiled.

The next morning, the air was crisp and overcast. Mark loaded their bags into the trunk of Sarah’s Subaru, expertly wedging the cooler behind the passenger seat. Sarah emerged from the apartment building a few minutes later, holding two steaming paper cups. She double-checked that the building's lobby door locked securely behind her, handed Mark a latte, and slid into the driver's seat.

"Ready?" she asked, adjusting her rearview mirror.

"Ready," Mark replied. He pulled up their shared road-trip playlist, and they pulled away from the curb, merging onto the highway to leave the city behind.


Maya yanked the zipper of her canvas duffel bag shut and left it at the foot of the bed. In the kitchen, the refrigerator door was wide open, casting a pale glow on Liam’s face as he inspected its contents.

"Should we toss the spinach?" Liam called out, holding up a plastic clamshell. "It’s already looking a little sad."

"Toss it," Maya said, walking into the living room to grab her sunglasses. "We won't be back until late Sunday. I don't want to come home to a swamp in the crisper drawer."

Liam nodded, dumping the greens before tying off the garbage bag. They had been living together in their Chicago apartment for two years, and the routine of prepping for a weekend away was comfortably familiar. While Liam took the trash down the hall, Maya did a final sweep: thermostat lowered to sixty-five, coffee pot unplugged, bedroom windows locked.

When Liam returned, he slung Maya’s duffel over his shoulder and grabbed his own beat-up backpack. "Do you have the Airbnb door code for the cabin?"

"Screenshot and saved in my favorites," Maya confirmed, locking the deadbolt behind them and testing the handle twice.

Down in the parking garage, they tossed their bags into the trunk of Liam’s Subaru, right next to a reusable tote stuffed with trail mix and sparkling water. Maya claimed the passenger seat, immediately plugging her phone into the dashboard console.

"I'


Maya shoved the last canvas tote into the trunk of the Subaru, her breath pluming in the crisp October air. "Did you grab the cooler?" she called toward the open front door of their apartment.

Sam appeared in the doorway, lugging the small blue cooler with both hands. "Got it. I also double-checked the thermostat. Set to sixty-two." He bumped the trunk closed with his hip after sliding the cooler in beside her bag. "Are we forgetting anything? Phone chargers? The dog's leash? Wait, we don't have a dog."

Maya rolled her eyes, smiling as she slipped into the passenger seat. "Chargers are in my backpack. And I left the spare key under the mat for Sarah so she can water the plants tomorrow."

"Perfect." Sam climbed behind the wheel and started the engine. The dashboard clock read 8:14 AM. Their rented cabin in Astoria was only two hours away, but they had agreed to an early start to beat the weekend traffic out of Portland.

"Coffee first, right?" Sam asked, adjusting his rearview mirror. "Or do we want to power through until we hit the highway?"

"Coffee now, definitely," Maya said. She pulled out her phone, already opening her maps app. "Drive-thru at the corner? It’s on the way."

"Drive-thru it is." Sam pulled out of their apartment complex, the tires crunching over fallen autumn leaves.

"Okay, navigator duties," Maya announced, swapping from her maps to her audio library. "Are we feeling a true crime podcast, or the acoustic playlist we made last month?"

"Let's start with music," Sam said, signaling a right turn toward the coffee shop. "Save the murder mysteries for when we're actually in the woods."

Maya laughed, hitting play on the music, and settled back into her seat as they headed toward the coast.


Maya zipped her duffel bag and set it by the apartment door, checking the weather app on her phone one last time. "It says it might rain Sunday morning," she called toward the kitchen. "Did you pack your waterproof jacket?"

Liam emerged holding a half-empty jar of salsa and a block of cheddar. "I grabbed the green rain shell," he said, gesturing with the cheese. "Should we bring these, or just buy groceries when we get to the coast?"

"Bring the cheese, leave the salsa," Maya decided, walking over to inspect the fridge. "We’re only going for two nights. Let's not overcomplicate it. Did you set the timer for the grow lights?"

"Yep, the living room plants are covered," Liam said, putting the salsa back on the shelf and tossing the cheese into a small cooler bag.

The next morning came early. By seven, the cramped hallway of their Seattle apartment was clear, their weekend bags transferred to the trunk of Liam’s Civic. Maya stood on the sidewalk in the crisp morning air, holding two insulated travel mugs of coffee, while Liam did a final lap around the apartment to ensure the stove was off and the deadbolt clicked into place.

He jogged down the front steps, taking his mug with a grateful nod. "Heater’s down to sixty, door’s locked," he said, sliding into the driver's seat.

Maya climbed in beside him and clicked her seatbelt. "I'll navigate until we get out of the city," she said, tapping the address of their coastal Airbnb into her phone. "You want music, or are we finishing that true-crime podcast from last week?"

"Podcast," Liam said, putting the car in gear and pulling away from the curb. "Let's find out who actually robbed that museum before we hit the highway."


Maya zipped her canvas duffel bag, tossing it onto the foot of their shared bed. "Liam, did you pack the good sunscreen or the spray?"

"The spray," Liam called from the kitchen. The refrigerator door thumped shut. "And I grabbed the leftover pasta for lunch tomorrow. Are you bringing your heavy jacket? The weather app says it might drop to the forties up in the Berkshires."

Maya glanced out the window. It was a sunny Friday morning in suburban New Jersey, but New England weather was notoriously fickle. She pulled her denim jacket out of the bag and swapped it for a thick, insulated fleece. "Good call."

They met in the narrow hallway, smoothly performing their usual departure dance. Maya unplugged the toaster and double-checked the stovetop dials, a habit she couldn't break, while Liam quickly watered the drooping potted pothos by the front door.

"Got the keys?" Liam asked, hoisting both of their bags onto his shoulders.

"Got them," Maya said, pulling the door shut and locking the deadbolt behind them.

Down in the apartment complex parking lot, the trunk of Liam’s aging Honda Civic easily swallowed their weekend gear. Maya slid into the passenger seat and immediately plugged her phone into the dashboard cord.

"Coffee first, or just get straight on the highway?" Liam asked, adjusting the rearview mirror and buckling his belt.

"Let's hit the drive-thru on Route 17," Maya decided, queuing up a true-crime podcast they had been saving specifically for a long drive. "If we keep moving, we can beat the worst of the George Washington Bridge traffic."

Liam shifted the car into drive. "Sounds like a plan. Next stop, Massachusetts." As they pulled out into the street, Maya relaxed against her seat, ready for the weekend to begin.


Maya zipped her canvas duffel bag, pressing down on the sides to make room for one last heavy sweater. "Do you think it'll drop below freezing?" she called out to the kitchen.

Sam appeared in the bedroom doorway, holding a half-empty carton of oat milk. "Weather app says lows in the thirties. Better safe than sorry." He gestured with the carton. "Should I throw this out, or pack it in the cooler?"

"Just dump it," Maya said, gathering her chargers from the nightstand. "We can stop at the grocery store in Woodstock once we get to the cabin."

They had been talking about a weekend away in the Catskills since November, but between Sam’s busy season at the accounting firm and Maya’s erratic graphic design deadlines, they hadn’t managed to align their schedules until now, late February.

By Saturday morning, their apartment was a flurry of coordinated routine. Sam lugged the duffels and a tote bag of snacks down the two flights of stairs to their Honda Civic while Maya did the final sweep. She turned the thermostat down to sixty degrees, unplugged the toaster, and double-checked the apartment deadbolt before hurrying out into the brisk morning air.

In the car, Sam adjusted the rearview mirror and tapped the steering wheel. "Coffee first, or hit the highway?"

"Drive-thru first, absolutely," Maya said, buckling her seatbelt and plugging her phone into the center console. "I'm not navigating Route 17 without caffeine."

Sam chuckled and pulled out of their parking spot. "Fair enough. You’re on DJ duty, though. No depressing true crime podcasts until we’re at least past the suburbs."

"Deal." Maya pulled up an indie-folk playlist they both liked, the familiar acoustic chords filling the car as they merged onto the interstate, leaving the city behind.


The faded zipper of the olive duffel bag protested as Maya forced it shut. "Did you pack the rain jacket?" she called out, leaning her weight on the edge of the bed.

"Yeah, it’s at the bottom of the blue backpack," Liam replied from the kitchen. The refrigerator door slammed shut. "I threw out the rest of the milk, by the way. It smelled fine, but it expires tomorrow."

Maya hauled her bag off the mattress. "Good call. Did you check the weather again?"

Liam met her in the hallway, adjusting his baseball cap. "Still looking at scattered showers tomorrow afternoon in the mountains. We can just do the brewery tour if the hike gets washed out."

They did a final sweep of their apartment—a well-practiced routine after three years of living together. Maya double-checked that the stove was off, while Liam unplugged the toaster, locked the patio door, and lowered the thermostat.

Down in the parking garage, the damp chill of a mid-October Friday hung in the air. Liam popped the trunk of his Honda CR-V, shifting a stray reusable grocery bag to make room for their luggage.

"Do you want me to drive first?" Maya asked, tossing her tote bag onto the passenger seat.

"I can take the first shift," Liam said, sliding behind the wheel. "Just plug in the address for the cabin."

Maya connected her phone to the console, tapping the screen until the GPS route illuminated in a thick blue line. "Two hours and forty minutes," she announced. "Should we stop for coffee, or just hit the interstate?"

Liam put the car in reverse. "Let's stop at the drive-thru by the ramp. I need a cold brew if I’m going to deal with outbound traffic."

"Perfect," Maya said, queuing up their favorite comedy podcast. "Coffee first, then vacation."


Maya zipped her overstuffed duffel bag, the canvas straining slightly against the three different sweater options she had insisted on packing. "Liam, did you grab the cooler?" she called down the narrow hallway of their shared apartment.

"Got it!" Liam emerged from the kitchen, balancing a small blue cooler against his hip while scrolling through his phone. "I packed the leftover pasta, a six-pack of IPA, and the sparkling water. Do we need any more snacks?"

Maya grabbed her tote bag and snatched the car keys from the ceramic bowl by the door. "No, we'll be fine. Let's just grab coffee. We can hit the drive-thru on the way to the highway."

They navigated the two flights of stairs to the parking lot, falling into their familiar Friday evening routine. They had been living together for over two years, and these short, spontaneous weekend escapes to the lake had become their favorite way to decompress from the city.

At the car, Liam popped the trunk. He wedged the cooler securely next to Maya’s duffel and his own remarkably sparse backpack. "I'll drive first," he offered, shutting the trunk and walking to the driver's side.

Maya climbed into the passenger seat, immediately plugging her phone into the dashboard console. "You drive, I DJ. And navigate." She pulled up the map app. "Traffic is already backing up on I-95. We should probably take the scenic route through the state routes. It adds twenty minutes, but we won't be staring at brake lights."

"Scenic route sounds perfect," Liam agreed, adjusting his mirrors and shifting the car into reverse. "As long as that route includes the coffee."

"Already mapped it," Maya smiled, queuing up their favorite road-trip playlist. "Next stop, caffeine. Then, the cabin."


Maya folded her favorite thick wool sweater and wedged it into the shared canvas duffel bag on their bed. "Are you bringing the portable speaker, or should I?" she called out.

From the kitchen, Liam’s voice drifted down the hallway. "I already put it in the canvas tote with the snacks! Did you remember the phone chargers?"

"Got them," Maya said, zipping the bag closed. They had been looking forward to this weekend in the Catskills for a month, a much-needed break from their cramped Brooklyn apartment and their demanding office jobs.

Liam appeared in the bedroom doorway, holding two insulated travel mugs of coffee. It was barely six in the morning on Saturday, and his hair was still sticking up on one side. "I checked the GPS. If we leave in the next fifteen minutes, we'll beat the worst of the traffic on the George Washington Bridge."

Maya took a mug, savoring the warmth. "You’re a lifesaver. Let me just grab my makeup bag and we're good to go."

Down on the street, the morning air was crisp. Liam popped the trunk of their aging silver Honda Civic while Maya tossed the duffel bag inside. They fell easily into their familiar road-trip routine. Liam adjusted the driver’s seat—Maya had driven to the grocery store last, and she was five inches shorter than him—while Maya plugged her phone into the dashboard to queue up a new true-crime podcast.

"Wait, did you lock the deadbolt?" Liam asked, pausing with his hand on the ignition.

Maya nodded, clicking her seatbelt into place. "Locked and double-checked. The thermostat is turned down to sixty, too."

"Perfect." Liam smiled, shifting the car into drive. "Next stop, upstate." As they pulled away from the curb, Maya adjusted the air vents, settling in for the drive ahead.


The Friday evening traffic hummed outside their second-floor apartment as Maya zipped up her duffel bag.

"Did you pack the good coffee?" she called toward the kitchen.

"I grabbed the French roast," Julian replied, his voice muffled by the refrigerator door. "And the sharp cheddar. Do we need more than two bags of pita chips for a two-night trip?"

"Bring both. You know how we get after a hike," Maya said, walking into the living room. She paused at the hallway wall, clicking the thermostat down to sixty degrees. "Okay, plants are watered, trash is out. Are you driving first, or am I?"

Julian emerged from the kitchen holding a canvas tote bag bulging with groceries. He tossed the car keys onto the counter. "I’ll take the first shift. I want to get past the interstate traffic before my podcast episode ends."

They carried their bags down the narrow stairs to the complex’s parking lot. The late October chill bit at Maya's cheeks as she popped the trunk of their Honda. Julian wedged his bulky boots next to the cooler, nudging her duffel to make it all fit.

"Did you check the route?" Julian asked, climbing into the driver's seat. "Google Maps said something about lane closures on Route 9."

Maya slid into the passenger side, pulling her seatbelt across her chest. She tapped the app on her phone. "Yeah, it adds about fifteen minutes. If we take the scenic bypass, we can avoid the backup and grab dinner at that diner near the state park entrance."

"Diner burgers it is," Julian smiled, putting the car into reverse. Maya connected her phone to the Bluetooth, queuing up their shared road trip playlist as they pulled out onto the avenue, officially leaving the work week behind them.


Sam stood by the kitchen island, scrolling through the route on his phone. "Google Maps says if we leave in the next twenty minutes, we’ll miss the worst of the I-95 traffic," he called out, taking a sip of his lukewarm coffee.

"Almost ready!" Maya shouted from the bedroom. She emerged a moment later, wrestling a canvas weekend bag over her shoulder while balancing two travel mugs. "I grabbed the spare phone chargers, but did you pack the snacks? I am not paying six dollars for gas station almonds."

Sam laughed and patted the tote bag resting on the counter. "Pretzels, apples, and the good trail mix are secured. Did you adjust the thermostat?"

"Set to sixty-five," Maya said, handing him one of the mugs. "And I double-checked the stove."

They had been sharing the cramped apartment for two years, and their routine for weekend getaways had become a comfortable dance. It was only a three-hour drive to the rented cabin in the mountains, but getting out the door was always a familiar exercise in minor logistics.

Together, they carried their bags down the two flights of stairs to the apartment building’s parking lot. The crisp Saturday morning air carried a sharp hint of impending autumn. Sam unlocked the trunk of their Honda Civic, tossing the bags inside and slamming it shut.

"I'll drive the first leg," Maya offered, slipping into the driver's seat and adjusting the rearview mirror. "But you’re in charge of the audio. And no heavy true crime podcasts until we're at least past the city limits."

"Deal," Sam said, buckling his seatbelt and pulling up Spotify on his phone. "Upbeat indie folk it is." Maya put the car in drive, and they pulled out onto the street, leaving the week behind them.


Maya stood in the center of their living room, staring at her overstuffed canvas duffel bag. "Did we pack the good coffee, or just the instant?" she called out toward the kitchen.

The refrigerator door thumped shut. Liam appeared in the hallway holding a half-empty carton of oat milk and a Tupperware container of leftover pasta. "I packed the French press and the whole beans," he said, setting the food on the counter. "I'm tossing these so they don't grow mold by Sunday. You have the Airbnb host’s door code, right?"

"Saved in my phone," Maya said. She slung the bag over her shoulder. "Okay, I've got my stuff and the grocery bags. Can you grab the cooler?"

"On it." Liam grabbed his own backpack and hoisted the small blue cooler by its handle. "Did you adjust the thermostat?"

"Down to sixty-two," she confirmed, doing a final visual sweep of the room. "Windows are locked. Plants are watered. Let's get out of here."

They carried their weekend cargo down the two flights of stairs to the apartment parking lot. The late Friday afternoon air was thick with the promise of Seattle commuter traffic, but the thought of a quiet cabin in the Cascades pushed them forward. Liam popped the trunk of his Subaru, and they quickly Tetris-stacked their bags around the cooler.

Once settled in the front seats, Maya plugged her phone into the dashboard. "Navigation says an hour and forty minutes if we take the I-90. We should miss the worst of the bridge backup."

"Sounds like a plan," Liam said, checking his mirrors and putting the car into reverse. "Put on that new playlist you made. The acoustic one."

Maya tapped the screen, and soft guitar chords filled the cabin as they pulled out onto the street, finally leaving the workweek behind.


Sarah folded the last of her sweaters into the canvas weekender bag, pressing the zipper down with her thumb. "Did you pack the phone chargers?" she called out, glancing toward the hallway.

Mark appeared in the bedroom doorway, holding two coiled cords and a travel mug of coffee. "Already in the glovebox," he said. "Along with the road trip snacks. I grabbed those peanut butter pretzels you like."

"You're a lifesaver," Sarah smiled, hoisting her bag off the bed. They had been looking forward to this weekend in the Catskills for a month—just a two-night stay at a small rented cabin, but it was enough to escape the city’s relentless hum.

In the living room, they moved through their established departure routine. Mark adjusted the apartment's thermostat down to sixty-two degrees while Sarah quickly watered the wilting pothos plant by the window.

"Did you take the kitchen trash out?" she asked, pausing by the kitchen island.

"Yep, tossed it on my way back from getting the coffee," Mark replied, slinging his duffel bag over his shoulder. "Ready?"

"Ready."

They locked the apartment door, both testing the knob out of habit, and headed down to the parking garage. The trunk of Mark's Subaru swallowed their weekend bags easily. Once settled in the front seats, the familiar ritual of setting up the drive began. Mark plugged his phone into the dashboard to bring up the GPS, the estimated arrival time glowing in bright blue: *2 hours, 14 minutes*.

"Okay, navigator," Mark said, pulling out of the parking space. "Podcast or playlist?"

"Let’s start with that true-crime podcast," Sarah said, scrolling through her phone. "But if it gets too dark, we're immediately switching to the 90s playlist."

"Deal," Mark laughed. The car merged onto the morning highway, the weekend stretching out comfortably ahead of them.


"Did you pack the good coffee?" Sarah asked, tossing a thick gray sweater into the shared canvas duffel bag on their bed.

"I did, and the French press," Mark called back from the kitchen. The refrigerator door thumped shut. "Do we need more than two blocks of cheddar for just two days?"

"Probably not, but bring them anyway."

They had shared their cramped Chicago apartment for three years, and this weekend getaway to a rented cabin in southern Wisconsin was entirely overdue. It was Friday evening, and the frantic energy of the workweek was slowly giving way to quiet anticipation.

Mark walked into the bedroom, handing Sarah a travel mug of chamomile tea. "I checked the oil yesterday, and the tank is full. Do you want to drive first, or should I?"

Sarah zipped the duffel bag and sighed, letting her shoulders drop. "You drive first. I want to stare out the window and decompress for a bit. We can switch when we hit Milwaukee."

"Deal." Mark grabbed the heavy bag by its straps. "I’ll take this down to the car. Make sure the thermostat is turned down?"

"Already on it." Sarah did a final sweep of the apartment, double-checking the stove burners and making sure the windows were shut before locking the deadbolt behind her.

Down in the parking garage, Mark was wedging the cooler into the trunk of their hand-me-down Subaru. Sarah climbed into the passenger seat, plugging her phone into the dashboard cable.

"True crime podcast or indie folk playlist?" she asked as Mark slid behind the wheel and started the engine.

"Let’s start with music," Mark said, adjusting his mirrors. "Podcast once we hit the inevitable traffic on I-94."

Sarah hit play, and a soft acoustic guitar filled the small cabin. Mark smiled at her, shifted the car into drive, and steered them out of the garage and into the fading evening light.


Maya yanked the zipper of her canvas duffel closed, pressing her knee into the fabric to make it fit. "Liam, did you pack the heavy raincoat or the flimsy one?" she called down the hallway of their Seattle apartment.

"The heavy one," Liam shouted back from the kitchen. The refrigerator door thumped shut. "Hey, do we need to throw out this milk before we leave? It expires on Sunday."

"Just dump it!" Maya grabbed her bag and walked into the living room. Liam was standing by the island, pouring the remaining half-gallon down the sink. He rinsed the plastic jug and tossed it into the recycling bin.

"Alright, that’s the last of the perishables," Liam said, wiping his hands on a dish towel. He grabbed his own weathered backpack from the sofa. "Did you water the pothos?"

"Yesterday," Maya confirmed. She slipped her phone into her jacket pocket and scanned the room. "Thermostat is set to sixty, lights are off. I think we’re good to go."

They walked out together, Liam locking the deadbolt while Maya headed down the stairs to the parking garage. The Friday evening air was already carrying a damp chill. At the car, they tossed their bags into the trunk of Liam’s hatchback.

"Do you want to drive first, or should I?" Liam asked, dangling the keys.

"I’ll drive," Maya said, plucking them from his hand. "But you’re on DJ duty. And we have to stop at the drive-thru for coffee before we hit I-5, or I’m not making it all the way to Portland."

"Deal," Liam smiled, sliding into the passenger seat. As Maya started the engine, he pulled up a road-trip playlist, the familiar routine settling comfortably between them as they rolled out of the garage and toward the weekend.


Maya zipped her canvas duffel bag, leaving it by the front door next to Liam’s slightly scuffed backpack. It was Friday evening, and the week's exhaustion still lingered in their small Chicago apartment, but the prospect of a weekend in Door County offered a welcome reprieve.

"Did you remember the charger for the Bluetooth speaker?" Liam asked, emerging from the kitchen with two steaming travel mugs. He handed the blue one to Maya.

"I put it in the front pocket of your bag," Maya said, taking a grateful sip of the coffee. "Did you turn down the thermostat?"

"Set to sixty-two," Liam confirmed, patting his pockets for his keys. "And I took out the kitchen trash. I think we’re good to go."

They locked the apartment, navigating the narrow staircase down to their aging Subaru. The crisp chill of the October evening bit at their jackets as they loaded the trunk. Maya claimed the driver’s seat, adjusting the rearview mirror while Liam settled into the passenger side, immediately plugging his phone into the auxiliary cable.

"I'll drive until we hit Milwaukee," Maya offered, pulling away from the curb and waiting for a gap in the neighborhood traffic. "Then we can switch?"

"Deal. Assuming we don't get stuck in heavy traffic on 94." Liam pulled up the navigation app, the screen glowing against his face. "Looks clear for now. Do you want a podcast or a playlist?"

"Music, please. Something low-key."

Liam scrolled for a moment before a familiar, mellow acoustic track filled the car. He reached over, briefly resting his hand on Maya’s shoulder. "Ready to do absolutely nothing for two days?"

Maya smiled, her shoulders finally dropping an inch as they merged onto the interstate. "Absolutely nothing," she agreed.


The zipper of the canvas duffel bag protested as Liam forced it shut. "Do we really need three extra sweaters for a two-day trip?" he called out from the bedroom.

"It gets cold on the coast at night!" Maya yelled back from the kitchen, where she was ruthlessly auditing the contents of their fridge. "Besides, we have the space in the trunk. Are you taking the trash out, or should I?"

"I'll get it," Liam said, emerging with the overstuffed bag slung over his shoulder. He paused in the hallway to scratch their tabby cat, Barnaby, behind the ears. "You left plenty of food out for the little monster?"

"Filled to the brim," Maya confirmed, tossing two bruised apples into the compost bin. She grabbed the small cooler by its plastic handles. "Okay, I've got the road snacks, the sparkling water, and the leftover pasta. Grab your keys. I can’t find mine."

Liam patted his denim jacket pockets, hearing the familiar jingle, and nodded.

They made their way down the two flights of stairs to their apartment parking lot. The Seattle morning was crisp and overcast, perfect weather for a weekend cabin rental on the Olympic Peninsula. As Liam loaded the trunk, Maya slid into the passenger seat and immediately connected her phone to the car's Bluetooth.

"Coffee first, then the true crime podcast, or podcast first, then coffee?" she asked, scrolling through her queue.

"Coffee first, absolutely," Liam said, shutting the hatch with a solid thud and climbing behind the wheel. "Drive-thru on Fourth Avenue?"

"Already mapping it," she said.

Liam put the car in gear, glancing back at their apartment window one last time to mentally confirm he’d locked the deadbolt. Satisfied, he pulled out onto the street, ready for the weekend.


Maya zipped her canvas duffel bag, tossing it onto the foot of the bed. "Are you taking the big cooler or the small black one?" she called toward the kitchen.

"The small one," Liam yelled back over the sound of the running faucet. "We just need it for the oat milk and the leftover pasta. I’m tossing the spinach, by the way. It’s already looking slimy."

"Fair enough." Maya grabbed her sunglasses from the dresser and walked into the living room. They had been looking forward to this weekend in Door County for a month. It was their first real break since moving into their shared Chicago apartment in the spring.

Liam met her by the front door, a thermos of coffee in one hand and his faded backpack slung over his shoulder. He did a quick pat-down of his pockets—phone, wallet, keys. "I'll take the bags down. Do you mind grabbing the cooler?"

"Got it. Did you lock the back door?" Maya asked, already heading toward the kitchen.

"Yep, and I turned off the AC."

Ten minutes later, they were buckling into Liam’s Subaru. The Friday morning traffic on I-94 was already starting to thicken, a sea of red brake lights glaring in the morning sun.

"Google Maps says it’s about four hours if we bypass Milwaukee," Liam said, adjusting the rearview mirror. "Want me to drive the whole way, or do we want to swap at Sheboygan?"

"I can take over halfway," Maya said, plugging her phone into the console. "I have that true crime podcast queued up, or we can just listen to a playlist. Your call."

"Podcast first," Liam decided, checking his blind spot and pulling into the street. "Let's just get out of the city."

Maya hit play, settling back into her seat as they merged onto the highway, the stress of the workweek already beginning to fade.


Maya folded the last of her sweaters into the canvas duffel bag, zipping it shut with a firm tug. "Did you remember to grab the HDMI cable?" she called out to the living room. "Last time we rented an Airbnb, we were stuck watching basic cable."

Liam appeared in the bedroom doorway holding a plastic grocery bag filled with road trip snacks. "Already in the backpack," he said. "Along with two bags of pretzels, some apples, and that overpriced peppered jerky you like." He set the bag down and hefted Maya’s duffel over his shoulder. "Is this it for your stuff?"

"Except my toiletry bag, which is on the sink," Maya replied, unplugging her phone charger from the nightstand.

They moved through the familiar, practiced dance of leaving their shared apartment. While Liam hauled their luggage down two flights of stairs to his Subaru, Maya did the final sweep. She double-checked that the stove and coffee maker were off, locked the patio door, and adjusted the thermostat down to sixty-two degrees.

Downstairs, the late Friday afternoon sun was already casting long shadows across the parking lot. Liam had the trunk open and was wedging a small cooler securely alongside their bags.

"I can drive the first leg," Maya offered, pulling his spare key from her jacket pocket. "You navigate and find us a decent playlist."

"Deal," Liam said, slamming the hatch shut. "But I get absolute veto power over the music once we hit the interstate."

They climbed into the front seats. Maya adjusted the rearview mirror and pulled up the GPS on her phone, setting the route for a small rental cabin in the Catskills. "Three hours and twenty minutes," she announced, shifting the car into reverse.

"Not bad," Liam smiled, tearing open the bag of pretzels. "Let's get out of here."


Elena tossed her toiletry bag into the green canvas duffel and pulled the zipper shut. "Did you pack the phone chargers?" she called out, leaning over the back of their sofa.

"Got two of them in the center console already," Mark shouted back from the kitchen. The refrigerator door opened with a soft suction sound. "Hey, are we taking the leftover turkey, or should I toss it? We'll only be gone two nights."

Elena walked into the kitchen, eyeing the plastic container. "Toss it. We’re supposed to be eating at that diner near the cabin tomorrow anyway. Did you grab the road trip snacks?"

"Pretzels, apples, and the overpriced beef jerky you like," Mark smiled, holding up a plastic grocery bag. He tied off the kitchen trash and set it by the front door.

They had been living together in their cramped Columbus apartment for two years, and the routine of a weekend getaway to Hocking Hills was practically a choreographed dance. Mark grabbed the duffel bag and the trash, while Elena unplugged the coffee maker and did a final sweep of the kitchen to make sure the stove burners were off.

"Keys?" Mark asked, pausing with his hand on the apartment doorknob.

"In my pocket," Elena confirmed, double-checking the deadbolt as they stepped into the dim hallway.

Down in the parking lot, the late Friday afternoon air was crisp. Mark popped the trunk of their Honda Civic, tossing the bags inside.

"I'll drive the first leg if you navigate," Elena offered, sliding into the driver's seat.

"Deal," Mark said, buckling his seatbelt and pulling up the route on his phone. "ETA is exactly two hours. You want the true crime podcast or the indie playlist?"

"Playlist," Elena said, putting the car into gear. "Let's leave the murder mysteries for the way back."


The zipper on the canvas duffel bag refused to close.

"Maya, did you pack the entire linen closet?" Sam asked, shifting his weight as he pressed down on the bulging fabric.

Maya emerged from the kitchen, tossing him a half-empty box of granola bars. "Just two extra beach towels. You know how chilly the Oregon coast gets in October. Besides, the Airbnb reviews said the hot tub was working again."

Sam grunted, finally wrenching the zipper shut. They had moved into their shared Portland apartment a little over a year ago, and this was their first real weekend away since the spring.

"Fair enough," Sam said, hauling the bag over his shoulder. "Do you have the cooler?"

"Filled and by the door. I put the leftover pasta in there for lunch tomorrow so we don't have to eat out for every single meal." Maya grabbed her sunglasses and double-checked the lock on the sliding door leading to their small balcony. "Are we taking I-5 or the scenic route?"

Sam paused at the front door, jingling the car keys. "Scenic route, definitely. It adds twenty minutes, but we’re in no rush. Plus, I want to stop at that drive-thru coffee shack on Highway 26."

"Perfect. You drive the first leg, I'll DJ?" Maya suggested.

"Deal. But no true crime podcasts until after sunset."

They carried their gear down the two flights of stairs to the parking garage. The Friday afternoon air was crisp, hinting at the incoming autumn rain. As Sam loaded the trunk of their Subaru, Maya slid into the passenger seat, plugged in her phone, and queued up a familiar indie-folk playlist. Sam climbed in, started the engine, and backed out of the space, both of them letting out a simultaneous sigh of relief as they left the workweek behind.


Maya shoved her hiking boots into the canvas duffel, pressing them down to make room for her bulky fleece. Across the bedroom, Liam was tossing rolled-up socks into his own overnight bag.

"Did you grab the trail map?" Liam asked, zipping his bag with a sharp tug.

"It’s on the kitchen counter," Maya said. She paused, looking at her open bag. "Do you think I need the heavy raincoat, or just the windbreaker?"

"The forecast said it might drizzle Sunday morning," Liam replied, walking over to hand her a tangled phone charger. "I'd bring the raincoat. Better safe than wet."

Maya nodded, swapping the jackets. Living together for three years had refined their weekend routines; they navigated the cramped apartment without colliding.

They met in the kitchen ten minutes later. Liam packed a small cooler with leftover pasta, two apples, and a six-pack of sparkling water, while Maya unplugged the coffee maker and adjusted the apartment thermostat down to sixty-two degrees.

"Got the keys?" she asked, slinging her duffel over her shoulder.

"Yep. And the map," Liam smiled, holding up the folded paper.

Outside, the crisp Saturday morning air was a welcome change from their stuffy second-floor walk-up. Liam popped the trunk of his Subaru, arranging the cooler and bags so they wouldn't slide around on the winding mountain roads. Maya settled into the passenger seat, immediately scrolling through her phone.

"True crime podcast or the driving playlist?" she asked as Liam slid behind the wheel and started the engine.

"Playlist," Liam said, adjusting his mirrors. "I don't want to think about unsolved murders before we even hit the interstate."

Maya laughed, hitting play on a familiar indie track. Liam backed out of the driveway, and together, they turned toward the open road.


Maya zipped her canvas duffel bag and set it by the front door, glancing around the living room to make sure the windows were locked. "Did you turn the thermostat down?" she called toward the kitchen.

"Set to sixty," Liam replied, emerging with a plastic grocery bag. "I grabbed the milk and the leftover Thai food so they don't go bad, plus the trail mix we bought yesterday." He paused to check his pockets. "Did you remember the extra phone charger?"

"It's in the glovebox," Maya said, slipping into her denim jacket. "Are we taking your car or mine?"

"Let's take yours. It gets better gas mileage, and I filled the tank this morning," Liam said. He grabbed her duffel bag in one hand and the grocery bag in the other.

They walked down the two flights of stairs to their apartment building's parking lot. The Friday evening air was crisp, hinting at the autumn weather they were heading toward in the Berkshires. While Liam arranged their bags in the trunk of the Honda, Maya slid into the driver’s seat and pulled up the GPS on her phone.

"It says two and a half hours if we avoid the toll road," Maya said as the engine turned over. "We can stop at that diner near the highway on-ramp for dinner, or just heat up the leftovers when we get to the Airbnb."

Liam climbed into the passenger seat and buckled his seatbelt. "Let's push through and eat there. I just want to get out of the city as soon as possible. But we definitely need drive-thru coffee first."

"Agreed," Maya smiled, shifting the car into gear. "Pull up the playlist?"

As she navigated out of the lot and merged onto the bustling avenue, Liam queued up their favorite acoustic mix, the weekend finally beginning.


The trunk of Ben’s Subaru slammed shut with a muffled thud. "That's the last of the duffel bags," he said, wiping his forehead. Even in late September, the Chicago humidity lingered in the alleyway.

Maya leaned against the driver's side door, scrolling through her phone. "Did you grab the small cooler? I put the leftover pasta and the good cheddar in there. We’ll want it when we get to the cabin."

"Cooler is tucked behind the passenger seat," Ben confirmed, fishing the car keys from his jeans pocket. "Did you check the thermostat?"

"Set to sixty-eight, and I made sure the coffee maker is unplugged." Maya opened her door and slid into the driver's seat. They had a standing arrangement for weekend trips: she handled the chaotic first leg out of city traffic, and he took over once they hit the open highway toward Wisconsin.

Ben climbed in beside her and immediately angled the air conditioning vent toward his face. "Did we decide on a podcast, or are we just doing music until we're past the suburbs?"

"Let's stick to the road trip playlist until we get through the tollway," Maya said, adjusting her rearview mirror. "I don't have the mental bandwidth for true crime while people are brake-checking me on I-90."

Ben laughed, pulling up Spotify on his phone and connecting it to the dashboard Bluetooth. The familiar opening chords of Fleetwood Mac filled the car. He opened a bag of pretzels they’d bought for the ride, offering her the first one.

"Oh, wait," Maya paused, shifting the car back into park. "Did you lock the deadbolt?"

Ben groaned good-naturedly, unbuckling his seatbelt. "I got it. Don't leave without me." He jogged back toward their apartment building, leaving Maya smiling at the steering wheel, ready for two quiet days by the lake.


Maya zipped up the olive-green canvas duffel bag and hauled it off the bed. "Are we taking the cooler?" she called down the hallway.

"Only if you want to bring the leftover pasta," Liam shouted back from the kitchen. The refrigerator door slammed shut. "Otherwise, I’m just tossing the expired milk and putting the dry snacks in a tote."

Maya carried her bag into the living room, sidestepping a pile of mail they had let accumulate on the coffee table. "Let's skip the cooler. We can just grab dinner at that diner off I-70 once we get out of the city."

Liam emerged from the kitchen holding a canvas grocery bag stuffed with pretzels, apples, and a six-pack of pale ale. He set it by the front door next to his scuffed hiking boots. "Sounds good to me. Did you remember to adjust the thermostat?"

"Down to sixty-two," Maya confirmed, grabbing her fleece jacket from the hook. She looked around their cramped apartment, mentally running through their shared checklist. "Plants are watered. Trash is out. All the windows are locked."

Liam patted his denim pockets. "Wallet, keys, phone. I already loaded the sleeping bags into the trunk."

They walked out into the crisp Friday afternoon air, the Denver traffic already beginning its steady hum in the distance. Liam unlocked their battered Subaru, and Maya tossed her bag into the back seat before sliding into the passenger side.

"Google Maps says two hours if we take the scenic route, or an hour and forty on the highway," Liam said, plugging his phone into the dashboard mount and starting the engine.

Maya leaned back and adjusted the air vent. "Scenic route. It's Friday, and we're in no rush."

Liam smiled, pulling out of their parking spot. "Mountain radio or your playlist?"

"My playlist," Maya said, tapping her screen. "Let's get out of here."


Maya stood by the kitchen island, double-checking the weather app on her phone. "Did you confirm with the cat sitter, or did I?"

Liam emerged from the hallway, hoisting a slightly battered canvas duffel bag over his shoulder. "I did. Sarah is coming by tonight. I left the spare key under the welcome mat."

"Perfect," Maya said, grabbing her tote bag and tossing a stray phone charger inside. They had been living together in their Chicago apartment for two years—long enough that their packing routines had merged into a familiar, if slightly chaotic, dance. It was Friday morning, and they were taking a much-needed weekend trip up to a rented cabin in Door County.

"Do we have room in the cooler for the leftover pasta?" Liam asked, peering into the open refrigerator.

"Just leave it. We’re going to want to get dinner on the way anyway, and I don't want the sauce spilling," Maya reasoned. "Besides, I already packed the good cheddar and the grapes."

Liam shrugged, gently bumping the fridge door shut with his hip. "Fair enough. You want to drive first, or should I?"

"I'll drive," Maya volunteered, fishing the Subaru keys out of the ceramic bowl by the door. "But you’re in charge of the audio. No heavy true crime podcasts this time, please. My brain is fried from work."

"Deal. Nineties acoustic it is," Liam smiled.

They hauled their bags down the two flights of stairs to the parking lot. The crisp October air held the promise of changing leaves and woodsmoke. Liam loaded the trunk, wedging the cooler securely behind the passenger seat, while Maya adjusted the mirrors and started the engine. As Liam slid into the car and clicked his seatbelt, Maya put it in drive and pulled out onto the street, finally leaving the city behind.


The zipper of the canvas duffel bag stuck halfway. Maya gave it a sharp, frustrated tug, sighing as it finally closed. "Are you sure we don't need the heavier jackets?" she called out to the living room. "The weather app says it might drop into the low forties near the lake tonight."

"Throw them in the backseat just in case," Liam yelled back, his voice muffled by the hall closet door. He emerged a second later carrying a tote bag overflowing with road trip snacks and a tangled mess of charging cables. "Better safe than freezing. Did you remember the dog food?"

"Packed it first," Maya said. She grabbed her travel mug from the kitchen counter and scratched their terrier mix, Buster, behind the ears. The dog was already pacing the hardwood floor, sensing the impending car ride. Maya and Liam had been sharing their cramped Seattle apartment for three years, and this quick weekend trip to a rented A-frame in the Cascades was their first real break since the holidays.

Liam stood by the front door, his keys jingling in his hand as he did a final mental inventory. "Stove is off. Windows are locked. Thermostat is down." He looked at Maya, who was wrestling her raincoat onto her arm. "Ready?"

"Ready," she smiled.

Down in the parking garage, they tossed their bags into the trunk of Liam’s aging Subaru. Maya claimed the passenger seat, immediately connecting her phone to the car's Bluetooth.

"Okay, ETA is two and a half hours," she announced, pulling up the map. "If we leave now, we can beat the worst of the Friday traffic on I-5. Oh, wait, do we need to stop for gas?"

Liam glanced at the illuminated dashboard as the engine rumbled to life. "We have half a tank. Let's just grab coffee at the drive-thru on Fourth Avenue and fill up once we're out of the city limits."

Maya nodded, queuing up the latest episode of their favorite true-crime podcast while Buster settled comfortably into the backseat. "Deal. Get us out of here."


Maya zipped her duffel bag shut with a sigh of relief. "Did you grab the phone chargers, or do I need to pack mine?" she called out from the bedroom.

"I got the long one from the living room!" Liam yelled back from the kitchen. The refrigerator door thumped shut. "Do we need to throw out the milk? It expires on Sunday."

"Just leave it, we can use it in our coffee when we get back," Maya said, walking down the hall. She paused to quickly water the pothos plant on the entryway table, ensuring it would survive their two-day absence.

Liam stood by the front door, balancing a canvas tote bag of snacks on top of a small cooler. They had lived together in their cramped Chicago apartment for three years, long enough to have their road trip routine down to a science. He handled the provisions and the car maintenance; she managed the itinerary and the packing list. This weekend, they were driving up to a cabin in Wisconsin that Maya had booked months ago.

"Keys, wallet, sunglasses?" Liam asked, doing his standard pat-down of his pockets.

"Check, check, and check," Maya smiled, pulling her denim jacket on and locking the deadbolt behind them.

Down in the parking garage, they wedged their bags into the trunk of Liam’s aging Subaru. He adjusted the driver's seat while Maya pulled up their navigation app on her phone.

"Are we doing true crime or comedy for the drive?" Maya asked, scrolling through their shared podcast queue.

"Let's start with comedy. I can't do murders before I've had my iced coffee," Liam said, shifting the car into drive. "Can we hit that drive-thru place near the highway onramp?"

"Already added it as a stop," Maya said. She leaned back against the headrest as the car emerged from the garage into the bright Saturday morning sun, leaving the city behind.


Maya zipped her canvas duffel bag and hauled it off the bed, glancing out the bedroom window at the overcast Chicago morning. "The weather app says it might rain by the time we hit Milwaukee," she called down the hallway.

"That’s fine, we’re just driving anyway," Elias replied. He appeared in the doorway holding a half-empty travel mug and a tangled mess of phone chargers. "Did you pack the dog's bowls, or should I grab the spares from the kitchen?"

"I got them. They're in the green tote," Maya said, handing him her duffel. "Is the cooler already in the trunk?"

"Yep. Ice packs, turkey sandwiches, and those sparkling waters you like." Elias hoisted her bag over his shoulder. "Are we forgetting anything else? Thermostat is set to sixty-two, coffee pot is unplugged."

Maya walked through the living room, doing a final sweep of their apartment. She adjusted a drooping pothos plant on the windowsill and double-checked the deadbolt on the back door. "I think we’re good. If we forgot toothpaste, we’ll just buy it at a gas station."

Downstairs in the alley parking pad, the damp chill of late October hung in the air. Elias loaded the last of the bags into the hatchback of their Subaru while Maya settled their golden retriever, Barnaby, into the backseat with a fleece blanket.

Elias slid into the driver’s seat and pushed the ignition. The radio hummed to life with the quiet murmur of the local NPR station. "You want me to drive the whole way to Door County, or do you want to split it?" he asked, adjusting the rearview mirror.

"I'll take over after we get gas," Maya said, plugging the cabin's address into the center console. "But first, we need a detour for real coffee. The drive-thru on Kedzie?"

"You read my mind." Elias put the car in drive, and they pulled out into the quiet morning street.


Maya folded the last of her sweaters and shoved them into the canvas duffel bag on their shared bed. "Did you pack the good coffee?" she called out.

From the kitchen, Liam’s voice drifted over the sound of running water. "Yeah, I put it in the tote with the French press and the snacks. Are we taking the turnpike or the scenic route?"

Maya zipped her bag and hauled it into the hallway. "Google says the highway saves forty minutes, but it's Friday rush hour. Let's just take the backroads. I want to look at the trees, not stare at brake lights."

Liam appeared in the hallway, wiping his hands on a dish towel. He was already wearing his faded jeans and a comfortable hoodie. "Scenic route it is. I downloaded that true crime podcast you wanted to listen to, just in case we lose cell service past the county line."

"Perfect." Maya grabbed her sunglasses from the console table. "Did you check the thermostat?"

"Set to sixty-five. Plants are watered. Trash is out." Liam picked up her duffel and his own backpack, expertly balancing the grocery tote on his forearm.

They locked the door of their third-floor apartment, the familiar sequence of deadbolt clicks signaling the official start of the weekend. Down in the parking lot, the late afternoon sun was already casting long shadows across the pavement. Liam arranged the bags in the trunk of their sedan while Maya settled into the passenger seat, pulling up the map on her phone.

As Liam slid behind the steering wheel and started the engine, he reached over and gave her knee a quick, affectionate squeeze. "Ready to get out of town?"

"More than ready," Maya smiled, turning up the radio.


Maya zipped her canvas weekender bag, double-checking the side pocket for their phone chargers. "Did you set the thermostat to sixty-five?" she called down the hallway.

"Doing it right now," Liam yelled back. He emerged from the kitchen a moment later, balancing his backpack and two steaming travel mugs. "I also watered the pothos, so it shouldn't be completely dead by Sunday evening."

Maya smiled, taking a mug from him. "Thanks. You have the Airbnb instructions saved offline, right? Reception always gets spotty once we get past Milwaukee."

"Saved and screenshotted." Liam set his bag by the front door and patted his jacket pockets. "Keys, wallet, sunglasses. Are we missing anything?"

Maya glanced around their shared living room, making sure the blinds were drawn. "I don't think so. Let's just hit the road before I-94 turns into a parking lot."

They walked down the three flights of stairs to their apartment's parking lot. The crisp autumn air felt like a welcome change from their long work weeks indoors. Liam popped the trunk of his Honda Civic, tossing their bags inside next to a reusable grocery bag filled with trail mix and sparkling water Maya had insisted they bring.

Once inside the car, Maya immediately connected her phone to the Bluetooth. "I'm in charge of the playlist until we hit the state line," she announced.

"Fair enough," Liam said, checking his mirrors and putting the car in reverse. "But we’re stopping at that diner near Kenosha for lunch. The one with the cherry pie."

"Deal." Maya settled back into the passenger seat as Liam navigated out of their complex. She took a careful sip of her coffee, watching the familiar neighborhood streets roll by, feeling the lingering stress of the week finally begin to loosen.


Maya yanked the zipper of the canvas duffel bag closed, pressing her knee into the fabric to make it all fit.

"Did you grab the rain jackets?" Liam called from the kitchen. The refrigerator door clattered shut.

"Packed them at the bottom," Maya shouted back, tossing her phone charger into her purse. "Are we good on snacks?"

Liam appeared in the bedroom doorway holding a canvas tote bulging with groceries. "Got the trail mix, the apples, and those cheddar crackers you like. If we hit traffic on I-5, we won't starve."

"We’re definitely hitting traffic," Maya sighed, sliding her feet into her sneakers. "Maybe we should take the scenic route to Astoria? It adds twenty minutes, but at least we won't be staring at taillights."

"Scenic route it is," Liam agreed. He set the snack tote by the front door and walked back to the kitchen to do his customary pre-trip sweep. He unplugged the toaster, double-checked the coffee maker, and turned off the overhead light. Meanwhile, Maya adjusted the apartment's thermostat, lowering it to sixty degrees to save on their heating bill for the weekend.

"Do we have the Airbnb confirmation?" Liam asked, grabbing his keys from the ceramic bowl on the console table.

"The screenshot is on my phone, and I flagged the email." Maya grabbed the duffel bag, but Liam reached out and took the heavier strap from her shoulder, carrying it himself.

They walked out into the crisp Saturday morning air, Maya double-locking their apartment door behind them. After tossing their bags into the trunk of Liam’s Subaru, Maya settled into the passenger seat and pulled up their shared road-trip playlist. Liam started the engine, shifting into drive as they finally pulled out of the complex and headed toward the coast.


"Should we bring the whole bottle of olive oil or just pour some into a smaller container?" Sarah asked, staring into the depths of their open refrigerator.

From the bedroom, Mark called back, "Just bring the whole bottle. We're driving, so it doesn't really matter how heavy the grocery bags are." He tossed three pairs of wool socks into his duffel bag and zipped it shut.

It was Friday night in their second-floor apartment, and they were preparing for a quick two-night getaway to a rented cabin in the Catskills. They had been living together for two years, long enough that packing had become a synchronized routine rather than a stressful negotiation. Sarah pulled a block of cheddar cheese, a half-empty jar of salsa, and a bag of Honeycrisp apples from the shelves, placing them into a reusable canvas tote.

"Did you check the tire pressure?" she asked, walking into the hallway.

"Yep, did it on my way home from work," Mark said, emerging from the bedroom with his bag. "Also, the weather app says it might rain Sunday morning, so make sure you grab your waterproof jacket."

The next morning, they were up by seven. Mark carried the heavy cooler down the narrow apartment stairs while Sarah double-checked the deadbolt, making sure the thermostat was lowered to save on the heating bill.

At the car, they played their usual game of trunk Tetris. Mark slid the duffel bags behind the passenger seat, leaving the trunk flat for the cooler and groceries.

"I can drive the first shift," Sarah offered, sliding behind the steering wheel and adjusting the rearview mirror.

"Deal. I’ll navigate," Mark said, buckling his seatbelt and plugging his phone into the dashboard. "But first, we need coffee. The drive-thru on 4th Street?"

"Absolutely," Sarah said, putting the car in gear and pulling out of their parking spot. "Let's get out of here."


The worn zipper of the canvas duffel bag stuck halfway, prompting Maya to give it a sharp tug.

"Did you pack the phone chargers, or are they still on the nightstand?" she called out, shoving a thick sweater into the remaining space.

From the kitchen, David’s voice drifted over the hum of the refrigerator. "I grabbed the one from the living room! I'll get the bedroom one right now. Did we decide what to do about the coffee situation tomorrow?"

Maya walked out to meet him, leaning against the doorframe. "Let's just buy some at that cafe near the Airbnb. I don't want to pack the French press just for two days."

"Fair enough," David said. He poured a final scoop of kibble into the cat's automatic feeder, wiping his hands on his jeans. "Buster is set for the weekend. Windows are locked. Trash is out."

"You’re a lifesaver," Maya said, handing him his jacket. They had been sharing their cramped Chicago apartment for three years, and escaping to a quiet Michigan cabin for the weekend felt incredibly overdue.

Twenty minutes later, they were in David’s Honda, merging onto I-94. The Friday evening traffic was sluggish, a sea of red taillights bleeding into the autumn dusk.

"Google Maps says there's a slow-down near Evanston, but it clears up after that," Maya said, her face illuminated by the glow of her phone screen. "Should I put on that true crime podcast, or do we want music?"

"Let’s start with music. My brain is too fried from work for mysteries," David replied, adjusting the rearview mirror. He reached over the center console and gave her knee a quick, affectionate squeeze. "Next stop, vacation."

Maya smiled, queuing up their shared road-trip playlist as the dense city skyline slowly faded behind them.


Sarah tossed a thick wool sweater onto her duffel bag, debating the coastal weather forecast. "Are you bringing the heavy rain jacket, or just the windbreaker?" she called out toward the bathroom.

Mark emerged, pointing his toothbrush at her. "Both. It’s the Oregon coast in October. You never know." He dropped a travel-sized tube of toothpaste into her open toiletry bag. "Can we share this? I can't find my Dopp kit."

"Yeah, that's fine," Sarah said, zipping her bag shut. "Did you end up booking that seafood place for tomorrow night?"

"Done. Seven o'clock." Mark walked over to the hallway thermostat, adjusting it down to sixty degrees for the weekend. "I’m going to head down and load the car. Can you make sure the coffee pot is off?"

"Already unplugged," she replied. She slung her weekender over her shoulder, grabbed her travel mug, and did a final visual sweep of their one-bedroom apartment—stove off, windows locked, plants watered.

Down in the parking garage, Mark was wrestling his bulky backpack into the trunk of their Honda Civic. The autumn morning was crisp, carrying a faint bite of impending rain. Sarah slid into the passenger seat, immediately plugging her phone into the dashboard console.

"Playlist?" Mark asked, settling into the driver's seat and starting the engine.

"The acoustic road trip mix," Sarah decided, pulling up the map app. "It says we have a little traffic on 26 West, but it should only take an hour and a half to get to Cannon Beach."

Mark backed out of their assigned spot. "Perfect. Keep an eye out for a drive-thru. I need a breakfast sandwich before we hit the highway."

"On it," Sarah said, as they pulled out of the garage and merged into the morning traffic.


The canvas duffel bag sat open on the foot of the bed, slowly swallowing Sarah’s weekend wardrobe. She folded a second thick sweater and wedged it next to her jeans.

"Do you think I need the heavy jacket?" she called out toward the kitchen. "The forecast for Asheville says it might drop into the forties tonight."

Mark appeared in the bedroom doorway holding a half-empty carton of oat milk and a block of sharp cheddar. "Better safe than sorry," he said. "Are we throwing this milk out, or taking it? I'm already packing the cooler with the cheese and those leftover grapes."

"Let's just take it," Sarah decided, zipping the duffel. "We can use it for coffee tomorrow morning."

Living together for three years had streamlined their departure routine. There was no longer any debate over who was driving or whose car to take; Mark’s Subaru was already gassed up and waiting in their apartment complex parking lot.

Within twenty minutes, they were doing the final sweep. Mark stood by the front door, keys jingling in his hand. "Got your phone charger? Toothbrush?"

"Got them," Sarah said, giving the stove knobs one last paranoid glance before turning off the kitchen light. She locked the deadbolt behind them, the familiar heavy click echoing in the quiet hallway.

Down in the car, the late Friday afternoon sun glinted off the windshield. Mark tossed the small cooler into the backseat next to their bags and slid behind the wheel. Sarah buckled up and pulled up the GPS on her phone.

"Traffic on I-40 looks pretty standard," she reported, connecting her phone to the car's Bluetooth. "True crime podcast or the indie playlist?"

"Playlist first," Mark smiled, putting the car into drive. "Let's save the murders for the mountains."


Maya sat cross-legged on their faded sectional, her phone illuminating her face in the dim apartment. "Weather says it’s going to rain Sunday morning in Astoria," she said, swiping through the forecast. "Should I swap the hiking boots for my rain boots?"

Liam looked up from the open duffel bag on the floor. He tossed in a bundle of socks and nodded. "Probably a good idea. I’m bringing my waterproof shell just in case. Did you remember to pack the French press? I refuse to drink whatever instant coffee that Airbnb has."

"Already in the tote bag," Maya said, tossing her phone onto the cushion. She walked over to the kitchen counter to check the unplugged appliances—a ritual they had developed over three years of living together. "Toaster’s unplugged. Coffee maker is off."

"You're a lifesaver," Liam said, finally zipping the overstuffed duffel. "If we leave by seven tomorrow, we can grab bagels on the way out and beat the traffic on Highway 26."

The next morning, the apartment was a flurry of quiet, groggy coordination. Liam carried the bags down and took out the recycling while Maya watered their wilting pothos plant and double-checked the deadbolt.

Down in the parking garage, they loaded the trunk of Liam’s battered Civic. The chilly October air had them both shivering as they climbed into the front seats. Liam turned the ignition, waiting a moment for the old engine to settle.

"Heater’s on," he said, adjusting the vents toward her. "Podcast or playlist?"

Maya buckled her seatbelt, sliding her cold hands into her jacket pockets, and pulled up Spotify on her phone. "Playlist for now. We can switch to the true crime podcast once we hit the highway."

Liam shifted into drive, and they pulled out into the early gray light, ready for the weekend.


Mark stared at the open duffel bag on their bed, debating between two hoodies. "Is it supposed to drop below fifty at night?" he called out to the hallway.

Sarah walked in, brushing her teeth, her phone glowing in her free hand. "Weather app says forty-eight on Saturday night," she mumbled around the toothbrush. "Bring the thick gray one. And don't forget the dog food."

They were leaving for a rented cabin in the Blue Ridge Mountains for the weekend. After three years of living together in their cramped Charlotte apartment, these short weekend escapes had become a much-needed routine.

"I already packed Buster's food," Mark said, zipping the duffel shut. "Did you remember to push back the Sunday grocery delivery?"

"Yep, moved it to Monday evening." Sarah disappeared into the bathroom to spit and rinse.

The next morning brought their familiar dance of departure. Mark handled the Tetris-like logistics of loading the trunk of their Subaru, while Sarah did a final sweep of the apartment—unplugging the toaster, bumping the thermostat up to seventy-four to save on the electric bill, and locking the deadbolt.

"Keys, wallet, sunglasses?" Sarah asked as she slid into the passenger seat, handing Mark a steaming travel mug.

"Check, check, and check," Mark said, taking a cautious sip of the hot coffee. He shifted the car into reverse. "Do you want to DJ or navigate?"

"I'll DJ," Sarah said, connecting her phone to the car's Bluetooth. "Navigation is easy anyway. Just get on I-85 North and don't stop until we hit the trees."

Mark pulled out of the apartment complex, the highway stretching out under a pale morning sky. Sarah reached over to rest her hand on his knee, the stress of their workweek already beginning to fade in the rearview mirror.


Sarah stood with the refrigerator door wide open, hands on her hips. "If we leave the milk, it’s going to smell terrible by Sunday night."

Mark walked past her, dropping two rain jackets into a canvas duffel bag. "Just pour it down the sink. Are we taking the leftover pasta, or is that a lost cause?"

"Lost cause," Sarah decided, grabbing the half-empty carton of oat milk and dumping it. She rinsed the carton and tossed it in the recycling bin. "Did you pack the extra phone chargers?"

"Got them. And I grabbed the good coffee thermos." Mark zipped the duffel bag and hoisted it onto his shoulder. They had been living in their cramped Chicago apartment for three years, and escaping to a rented cabin in Wisconsin for the weekend was exactly what they both needed.

Sarah did a final sweep of the living room. She unplugged the space heater, checked the locks on the back windows, and gave their potted Monstera a quick splash of water. "Okay, I think we're good. You have the Airbnb code?"

"Saved in my phone," Mark said, jingling the car keys by the front door.

They headed down the stairs to the parking garage. The Friday evening air was thick with summer humidity, but the promise of a quiet weekend kept their spirits high. Mark popped the trunk of their Subaru and tossed the bags inside, while Sarah slid into the passenger seat and immediately began scrolling through her phone.

"Podcast or a playlist?" she asked as Mark climbed in and started the engine.

"Let's start with music," he said, pulling out into the congested city traffic. "We can switch to true crime once we hit the highway."

Sarah smiled, cueing up their favorite road trip playlist. "Perfect."


Mark pressed his weight into the overstuffed canvas duffel bag, struggling to pull the zipper closed. "Did you pack the heavy sweaters, or did I?" he called out to the kitchen.

Sarah appeared in the doorway, holding a half-empty carton of oat milk. "I put mine in the tote. Yours are on the bed. Do you think this milk will go bad by Sunday night?"

"Probably not," Mark said, finally wrestling the zipper shut. "But dump it if you’re worried. We can grab more on the way back."

She sniffed the carton, shrugged, and placed it back in the fridge. "I'll risk it. Have you seen the car keys?"

"On the entryway table, under the mail." Mark hoisted the duffel onto his shoulder, grabbing Sarah’s canvas tote with his free hand. They had been sharing the apartment for nearly three years, and their weekend routines had settled into a comfortable, efficient rhythm. While Mark carried the bags downstairs to load the trunk of their Subaru, Sarah did the final sweep of the apartment—adjusting the thermostat, locking the deadbolt, and double-checking that the coffee pot was actually turned off.

She met him at the car, handing him a travel mug of freshly brewed coffee. The morning air was crisp, a clear indicator of the changing season.

"Thanks," Mark said, taking a sip before starting the engine. "Did we decide to take the scenic route through the valley, or the interstate?"

Sarah pulled up the map on her phone, tapping the screen. "Interstate is faster by forty minutes, but it's backed up near the toll bridge. Let's do the scenic route. We aren't in a rush to get to the cabin anyway."

"Scenic route it is," Mark agreed, shifting the car into drive. He pulled out of their parking lot, the GPS gently narrating their weekend escape from the city.


Maya zipped her canvas weekender bag, the zipper catching slightly on a stray thread. "Did you grab the phone chargers?" she called down the hallway, leaning over the unmade bed to grab her sunglasses.

From the kitchen, Liam yelled back, "Got 'em! And I put the leftover lasagna in the freezer so it doesn’t get weird while we’re gone." He appeared in the bedroom doorway, holding two insulated travel mugs. "Coffee's done. Are we taking my car or yours?"

"Yours," Maya decided, tossing her bag over her shoulder. "The Bluetooth in my Civic is acting up again, and I am not driving two hours to Santa Barbara in silence. We need to finish that true crime podcast."

Liam chuckled, handing her a mug. "Fair enough. You want me to drive first?"

"I’ll drive," Maya said, taking a cautious sip of the hot coffee. "I know the easiest way to get onto the 101 from here without hitting the construction. You can navigate and DJ once the episode finishes."

They performed their familiar pre-departure dance around the apartment. Liam adjusted the thermostat down to sixty-two degrees to save on the utility bill and patted his pockets for his wallet. Meanwhile, Maya checked that all the stove burners were off and double-checked the lock on the patio door. Satisfied, they carried their bags down the two flights of stairs to the parking garage.

Liam threw the bags into the trunk of his Subaru, closing it with a solid thud. Maya settled into the driver’s seat, adjusting the rearview mirror as Liam climbed in beside her and pulled up their route on his phone.

"Traffic doesn't look too bad," he noted, tapping the screen. "An hour and forty-five minutes if we don't hit a bottleneck near Ventura."

"Perfect." Maya put the car in reverse and pulled out into the morning sunlight, leaving the work week behind them.


"Do you think we need the heavier jackets?" Maya asked, tossing a tangled pile of sweaters onto the mattress.

Liam looked up from his phone, where he was swiping through the weather app. "It says mid-sixties in Cape May tomorrow, but it gets windy near the water. I'm bringing mine just in case."

Maya nodded, swapping out a light cardigan for her fleece pullover. "Good call."

They had been living together in their cramped Philadelphia apartment for two years, and packing for a weekend away had become a well-oiled routine. While Maya finished wrestling the zipper on their shared duffel bag, Liam cleaned out the fridge, tossing out a questionable carton of milk and bagging up the kitchen trash.

"Are we still aiming to leave by eight?" Liam asked, tying off the garbage bag.

"If we want to beat the morning traffic on the bridge, we have to," Maya said, hauling the bag off the bed. "Which means we really need to be asleep in twenty minutes."

The next morning, the ambition of an eight o'clock departure inevitably stretched to eight-thirty. Liam carried the luggage down to the Honda while Maya did a final sweep of the apartment, double-checking the stove dials and pulling the deadbolt shut.

When she finally slipped into the passenger seat, Liam handed her a scuffed travel mug. "Dark roast, splash of oat milk," he said, putting the car in gear.

"You're an absolute lifesaver," she sighed, letting the heat warm her hands. "Did you grab the toll pass?"

He tapped the plastic transponder clipped to the sun visor. "Already up. Do you want to DJ or navigate?"

"DJ," Maya said instantly, pulling up a playlist on her phone. "Maps says an hour and forty-five minutes. Let's go."

Liam merged onto the interstate, the low hum of the tires settling into the quiet, comfortable rhythm they had built together.


Maya zipped her canvas duffel bag and tossed it onto the edge of the bed. "Did you grab the small cooler?" she called out, pausing to check the bedroom thermostat. She dialed the heat down to sixty-two degrees to save on the gas bill.

"Yeah, it’s already in the trunk," Liam yelled back from the kitchen. "I threw in the leftover turkey sandwiches and a couple of IPAs for when we get there."

Maya walked down the hallway of their shared Chicago apartment, her sneakers squeaking slightly on the hardwood. Liam was standing by the island, double-checking the locks on the sliding balcony door. They had been living together for three years, and the routine of their cheap weekend escapes to a rented cabin in Wisconsin had become a well-oiled machine.

"Keys, wallet, sunglasses?" Maya asked, tapping her own jacket pockets as a physical checklist.

"Got 'em. Oh, wait—did you feed the cat, or did I?"

"I gave Barnaby an extra scoop this morning, and the automatic feeder is full," Maya assured him, pausing to scratch the orange tabby behind the ears as he brushed past her ankles.

They grabbed their remaining bags and headed down to the parking garage. The trunk of Liam’s aging Honda Civic snapped shut with a dull thud. Once they were both inside, Liam started the engine while Maya immediately plugged her phone into the center console.

"Google Maps says I-94 is backed up near the state line," she said, tapping the screen. "We should probably take US-41 instead. It adds ten minutes, but at least we'll be moving."

"Sounds good to me," Liam said, shifting into drive. "You have DJ duties. Put on that true-crime podcast we started."

Maya hit play, the familiar intro music filling the car as Liam merged onto the busy avenue, the stress of the workweek already beginning to fade in the rearview mirror.


Maya zipped her canvas duffel bag, shoving a rogue wool sock into the side pocket. "Are you bringing the big cooler or the small one?" she called down the hallway.

Liam appeared in the bedroom doorway, holding two half-empty bags of tortilla chips. "The small one. We’re only going to the coast for two nights, and the Airbnb has a full fridge. Do we want both bags of chips?"

"Combine them," Maya suggested, grabbing her toiletries. "Less to carry."

They had been living in their Portland duplex for three years, and their weekend getaways had settled into a comfortable, practiced routine. Liam took her duffel, adding it to the pile by the front door, while Maya did a final sweep of the kitchen. She emptied the coffee pot, double-checked that the oven was off, and adjusted the thermostat.

"Did you leave food out for the cat?" Liam asked, hoisting the cooler onto his shoulder.

"Mrs. Higgins from next door is coming over tomorrow morning, remember? I left the spare key under the mat for her." Maya grabbed her sunglasses from the counter.

Down in the driveway, the Friday evening air was crisp. They loaded the trunk of Liam’s Subaru, playing an impromptu game of Tetris with the bags, the cooler, and a pair of muddy hiking boots.

Liam slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine. "Did you download that true crime podcast?"

"All six episodes," Maya said, buckling her seatbelt and syncing her phone to the car's Bluetooth. "And I packed the good road trip snacks. The pretzels with peanut butter inside."

"Perfect." Liam smiled, shifting the car into reverse. As they pulled out onto the quiet street, leaving the workweek behind, the familiar, comforting stretch of the highway awaited them.


Maya pushed her weight against the overstuffed canvas duffel, finally coaxing the stubborn zipper shut. "Did you pack the phone chargers?" she called out, leaning over the back of the living room sofa.

"Got two of them in the glovebox," Liam replied, emerging from the kitchen with a half-empty jar of peanut butter and a sleeve of crackers. He tucked them into a canvas tote bag resting on the dining table. "I figured we might need snacks if the traffic on I-84 is as bad as the GPS says."

Maya walked into the kitchen and checked the thermostat, dialing it down to sixty degrees. They had been living together in their cramped Portland apartment for three years, and the routine of their weekend escapes had become a well-choreographed dance. "Good call. Should we grab food now, or just hit a drive-thru once we're out of the city?"

"Let's just do a drive-thru," Liam said, pulling his jacket on and jingling the car keys. "If we leave right now, we can beat the worst of the bridge traffic. I'll take the first shift driving so you can find us a decent podcast."

"Deal," Maya agreed. She did a final sweep of the apartment, making sure the coffee maker was unplugged and the bathroom light was off.

Together, they hauled their bags down the two flights of stairs to the damp parking lot. Liam loaded the trunk of his battered Subaru while Maya settled into the passenger seat, immediately plugging her phone into the auxiliary cord. By the time Liam slid behind the wheel and adjusted the rearview mirror, she had a true crime series queued up.

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

"Ready," she smiled, watching their familiar neighborhood blur past as they pulled out onto the wet street.