Sarah zipped her canvas duffel bag and hauled it into the hallway. "Did you grab the cooler?" she called out toward the kitchen.

Mark appeared a moment later, carrying a blue cooler and a reusable grocery bag stuffed with snacks. "Got it. I put the turkey sandwiches on top so they don't get squashed. Are we taking I-95 or the scenic route?"

"Let's take the highway until we hit the state line, then switch to Route 7," Sarah said, tapping the screen of her phone. "Maps says there's a pileup near exit 12 anyway, so we should bypass it."

Mark nodded, setting the cooler by the front door. "Good call. You want to drive first, or should I?"

"I'll drive," Sarah offered, grabbing her sunglasses from the console table. "But you're in charge of the playlist. And no weird experimental jazz this time, please."

Mark chuckled, holding his free hand up in surrender. "Okay, okay. Nineties alternative it is."

They carried their bags out to the Subaru parked in the driveway. The late Friday afternoon sun cast long shadows across their suburban Maryland street. Mark popped the trunk and expertly Tetris-ed the cooler beside their luggage, slamming the hatch shut with a satisfying thud.

Inside the car, the familiar smell of old coffee cups and a fading pine air freshener greeted them. Sarah adjusted her rearview mirror, checked her blind spot, and started the engine. "Did you remember to lock the back door?"

"Twice," Mark assured her, buckling his seatbelt and pulling up Spotify on his phone. "And I turned the thermostat down."

"Perfect." Sarah shifted into reverse and backed out of the driveway. As they rolled down the street toward the highway, the heavy tension of the long workweek finally began to dissolve. Mark pressed play, and the opening chords of an old Nirvana song filled the cabin.


"Should I pack the heavy jackets?" David called from the bedroom, tossing a pair of jeans into the open suitcase on their bed.

"Just the fleeces," Elena yelled back from the kitchen, where she was transferring trail mix into Tupperware. "The weather app says it'll be in the upper fifties during the day, but it might drop at night near the lake."

They had been looking forward to this weekend in Door County for a month. It was just a two-night getaway, a brief but much-needed respite from their demanding Chicago routines.

Elena zipped her toiletry bag and met David in the hallway. "Did you grab the extra phone chargers?"

"Got them," David said, clicking the suitcase shut. "And the good coffee beans. I'm not trusting the rental cabin's instant coffee again. I learned my lesson last year."

The next morning was a familiar, synchronized dance of departure. At 7:30 a.m., David carried the bags out to the Subaru while Elena did the final sweep of the house. She lowered the thermostat to sixty-two degrees, double-checked that the back door was deadbolted, and unplugged the toaster—an anxious, lifelong habit she couldn't break.

"All set?" David asked as she finally slid into the passenger seat, a pair of insulated travel mugs in her hands. She handed him the one with the black lid.

"All set," she confirmed, taking a sip of her own dark roast. "Did you put the cabin's address in the GPS, or do you want me to do it?"

"Already done. ETA is three hours." He shifted the car into reverse and backed out of the driveway.

"Perfect," Elena said, opening Spotify on her phone. "Now, true crime podcast or a nineties playlist?"

"Playlist first," David smiled, clicking on his turn signal. "Let's ease into the murder mysteries."


The canvas duffel bag sat half-full on the edge of the bed. Mark tossed in two pairs of jeans and a folded fleece jacket, glancing over his shoulder at his wife.

"Are we expecting rain in Monterey?" he asked, zipping his toiletry kit.

Sarah sat at the bedroom vanity, scrolling through the weather app on her phone. "Mostly overcast, maybe a drizzle on Sunday morning. I'd bring a light windbreaker just in case." She stood up and tossed him a tangle of white cords. "Don't let me forget the phone chargers this time."

"Already packed the spare," Mark said. "Do we need to stop at Trader Joe's for road snacks, or are we just going to power through until lunch?"

"Let's just grab coffee and breakfast sandwiches at the drive-thru on the way out of town. I want to beat the southbound traffic on the 101."

The next morning at 7:00 AM, the crisp suburban air smelled of dew and wet asphalt. Mark loaded the duffel bag into the trunk of their Honda CR-V while Sarah did a final sweep of the house. She lowered the thermostat to sixty-two degrees, double-checked the back door deadbolt, and set the alarm before locking the front door behind her.

When she climbed into the passenger seat, Mark handed her a travel mug of hot tea.

"You're a lifesaver," she said, wrapping her hands around the warm metal. "Did you water the patio ferns?"

"Yesterday afternoon," Mark confirmed, shifting the car into reverse. He backed out of the driveway and synced his phone to the dashboard display. "Podcast or music?"

"Let's start with music," Sarah said, tapping the screen to queue up a playlist. "We can switch to the true crime podcast once we hit the highway."

Mark smiled and merged onto the neighborhood's main thoroughfare, the early morning sun glinting off the windshield as they headed toward the coast.


The travel bags sat open on the bed, a physical barrier between Mark and Elena as they navigated their Friday night packing routine.

"Did you check the weather in Sedona?" Elena asked, tossing a fleece jacket into her duffel. "The app said it might drop into the forties at night."

"I did," Mark replied, folding a pair of jeans with meticulous care. "I’m bringing my heavy sweater just in case. Do we need the real hiking boots, or just sneakers?"

"Bring the boots. The Cathedral Rock trail gets slippery," she said, zipping her bag shut.

By 7:00 a.m. Saturday, the Arizona sun was already bright, casting long shadows across their driveway. Mark loaded the bags into the trunk of their Subaru, reorganizing them twice to make room for the cooler of snacks Elena had prepared.

Elena locked the front door, pulling the handle twice to make sure it caught—a habit Mark usually teased her about, though today he just offered a sleepy smile. She climbed into the passenger seat, handing him a travel mug of black coffee.

"Thanks," Mark said, taking a sip before starting the engine. "Did you set the thermostat to away?"

"Done. And I watered the patio ferns," Elena said, tapping the destination into her phone. The GPS chimed, estimating a two-hour drive. "Traffic looks clear on I-17. If we don't stop, we can make it to the trailhead by nine."

"Let's aim for that, but if we see a good diner, I'm pulling over," Mark warned, adjusting his sunglasses.

"Deal," Elena laughed, turning on their favorite indie folk playlist. As they pulled out of their suburban neighborhood and onto the highway, the shared stress of their workweek finally began to fade, replaced by the quiet, familiar rhythm of the open road.


The kitchen island was a clutter of canvas tote bags, reusable water bottles, and half-empty boxes of granola bars. Sarah leaned over her phone, scrolling through the weather app.

"It says it might rain Sunday morning in Asheville," she said, tossing an extra pair of wool socks into her duffel bag. "Did you pack your rain jacket?"

Mark looked up from the small cooler he was lining with ice packs and cans of sparkling water. "I grabbed the green one. Do you think we need to bring our own coffee, or just stop somewhere on the way?"

"Bring our coffee," Sarah said without hesitating. "The Airbnb listing said they have a French press, but I don't want to hunt for good beans tomorrow morning."

Mark nodded, fetching the bag of dark roast from the pantry. They had been planning this quick weekend getaway to the Blue Ridge Mountains for a month, mostly as a way to disconnect from their cluttered work schedules.

"Okay, cooler is packed," Mark announced, wiping his hands on a dish towel. "Did you set the thermostat?"

"Set to sixty-five, and I double-checked the back door," Sarah replied, slinging her weekender bag over her shoulder. "Can you grab my sunglasses off the entryway table?"

Ten minutes later, they were out in the driveway. The trunk of their Subaru slammed shut with a reassuring thud. Mark settled into the driver’s seat and started the engine, waiting for his phone to sync with the car's screen.

"Maps says two hours and fifteen minutes if we take the interstate," he said, pulling up the route.

"Perfect," Sarah said, reclining her seat a fraction and opening a bag of pretzels. "Let’s just get out of city traffic before we argue over a podcast."

Mark smiled, shifted into reverse, and pulled out onto their quiet street.


Sarah leaned over the kitchen island, tapping the screen of her phone. "The weather app says it's going to rain Sunday morning up in Asheville," she said, looking up at David. "We should probably plan to do the longer hike on Saturday."

David rinsed his coffee mug in the sink and placed it on the drying rack. "Saturday works. If we leave by seven tomorrow, we can drop our things at the cabin by noon and still have plenty of daylight." He dried his hands on a striped towel. "Did you want me to bring the heavy cooler from the garage or just the insulated tote bag?"

"Just the bag," Sarah decided. "We're only staying two nights, and we can grab dinner in town tomorrow anyway. No need to overpack."

The next morning, the house was a flurry of quiet, practiced efficiency. While Sarah watered the potted pothos by the window and double-checked the deadbolt on the back door, David carried their two duffel bags out to the Subaru. The crisp October air held the promise of autumn, a welcome break from the lingering summer humidity of the Atlanta suburbs.

David slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine, waiting for his phone to sync to the car. A moment later, Sarah opened the passenger door, sliding in with two steaming travel mugs.

"Cream and one sugar," she said, handing the silver tumbler across the center console.

"You're a lifesaver," David smiled, taking a cautious sip of the hot coffee. "Got the address pulled up?"

Sarah tapped her phone screen, routing the GPS to the cabin's zip code. She adjusted the air vents and scrolled to their favorite acoustic playlist. "All set."

David shifted the car into drive, pulling out of their driveway and steering them toward the interstate.


Sarah stood by the kitchen island, scrolling through the weather app on her phone. "It’s supposed to drop into the low fifties in Cannon Beach tonight," she called out. "I’m grabbing my heavy fleece just in case."

"Good idea," Mark yelled back from the bedroom. A moment later, he emerged carrying a stuffed green duffel bag and a tangle of phone chargers. "Did you pack the dog treats, or should I throw a bag in the trunk?"

"Already in the canvas tote by the door," Sarah said, picking up her travel mug. She topped it off with the last of the morning's coffee. "Are we taking Highway 26 the whole way, or do you want to take the scenic route?"

Mark set the duffel down by the front door and stretched his shoulders. "Let's just take 26. I kind of want to get to the rental house before check-in time so we can walk the beach before dinner. We can stop and grab sandwiches at that little bakery in Seaside on the way."

"Perfect." Sarah grabbed her sunglasses from the entryway table and double-checked her pockets for her keys. "Thermostat is set to sixty-two, dishwasher is running, and the back door is locked."

"You're a machine," Mark smiled, picking up the bags. He held the front door open for her.

They walked out into the crisp Oregon morning, the driveway still damp from an overnight drizzle. Mark loaded the bags into the trunk of their SUV while Sarah settled into the passenger seat and queued up a podcast they had been saving.

As Mark climbed into the driver's seat and started the engine, he tapped the steering wheel, glancing over at her. "Ready to get out of town?"

"Ready," Sarah said, leaning back in her seat with a satisfied sigh. "Let's go."


"If we hit the road by three on Friday, we can beat the worst of the I-95 traffic," Mark said, tracing the blue route on his laptop screen.

Sarah leaned over his shoulder, nursing a mug of peppermint tea. "Three works. I can take my last Zoom call in the car. Should we stop for dinner on the way, or just pack sandwiches?"

"Let’s pack sandwiches," Mark decided, closing the laptop. "I want to get to the cabin before dark. I'd rather not fumble with the porch lockbox in the pitch black like we did last year."

The next afternoon brought the usual hurried flurry of departure logistics. Their narrow hallway was cluttered with two canvas duffel bags, a reusable tote full of groceries, and a small cooler. Mark carried the heavier bags out to the Subaru, playing a brief game of Tetris to fit them into the trunk alongside his hiking boots.

Inside, Sarah performed the final house sweeps. She lowered the hallway thermostat to sixty-two degrees, double-checked that the coffee maker was unplugged, and gave their tabby cat a lingering scratch behind the ears. "Your automatic feeder is full, Captain. Be good," she murmured.

She locked the front door, pulling the handle twice to ensure the deadbolt had caught, and walked down the driveway. Mark was already in the driver's seat, syncing his phone to the dashboard display.

"Got the house keys?" he asked as she climbed into the passenger seat and buckled up.

"Right in my purse," Sarah confirmed. She pulled up the destination on her phone. "Two hours and forty minutes to Shenandoah."

Mark shifted the car into reverse. As they pulled out of their subdivision and turned onto the main road, the lingering tension of the workweek finally began to dissolve. Sarah turned on their favorite travel playlist, and they settled in for the drive.


"Should we take the turnpike or the scenic route?" Mark asked, squinting at the GPS map on his phone.

Sarah zipped up her canvas weekender bag, resting it on the kitchen island. "Depends. Do you want to pay the six-dollar toll and get to the Airbnb by six, or save the money and hit Friday rush hour traffic near Columbus?"

"Turnpike it is," Mark decided, locking his phone screen. "Did you grab the small cooler?"

"Already in the trunk." Sarah grabbed her empty travel mug and the house keys. It was only a two-night trip to a cabin in Hocking Hills, but organizing their departure always required a brief, tactical summit.

Mark grabbed his duffel bag and a plastic grocery sack full of road snacks—mostly pretzels, apples, and peanut butter cups—and headed out to the driveway. The late afternoon Ohio sun cast long shadows across the suburban lawn. He loaded the trunk of their Subaru, arranging the bags around the cooler, while Sarah did her customary final sweep of the house.

"Thermostat is set to sixty-eight," Sarah announced, stepping out and locking the front door. She gave the brass handle a firm, habitual tug to make sure it caught. "Coffee maker is off. Windows are locked."

"Perfect." Mark shut the trunk with a solid thud and walked around to the driver's side. "I queued up that history podcast you wanted to finish."

Sarah smiled, settling into the passenger seat and pulling her seatbelt across her chest. "You're the best. Did you remember your allergy pills?"

"Ah." Mark froze, his hand hovering over the ignition. "Good catch. Give me one second."

Two minutes later, pill bottle successfully retrieved, Mark started the engine. As they backed out of the driveway, Sarah adjusted the air conditioning vent, and they merged onto the street, the familiar, comfortable rhythm of their weekend getaway finally in motion.


Sarah pressed down on the lid of the cooler, sliding the zipper shut. "Did you remember to put the ice packs in?"

Mark looked up from his phone, adjusting his glasses. "Yep, right at the bottom with the cold cuts. Google Maps says I-66 is already clogged, so we should probably take the back roads down to Shenandoah."

"That adds almost an hour," Sarah pointed out, rinsing her coffee mug in the sink and setting it on the drying rack.

"But we keep moving," Mark countered. "Plus, we can stop at that diner near Front Royal for lunch."

Sarah considered it, wiping her hands on a dish towel. "Okay, fine. But you're driving the first leg."

"Deal." Mark grabbed his olive-green duffel bag from the hallway floor. "Ready?"

Before leaving, they performed their usual house-clearing routine. Mark double-checked the deadbolt on the back porch door while Sarah adjusted the thermostat down to sixty-two degrees to save on the weekend heating bill. They stepped out into the crisp Friday morning air, loading their gear into the trunk of their Honda CR-V.

"Got the road snacks?" Mark asked, slamming the trunk shut.

"Pretzels and apples are in the canvas tote," Sarah said, climbing into the passenger seat and pulling her seatbelt across her chest. "But can we stop for coffee before we hit the highway? I know we have the thermos, but I really want an iced latte."

Mark started the engine, shifting into reverse. "Only if you're buying. We need to grab gas at the Wawa anyway."

Sarah plugged her phone into the center console, bringing up her Spotify account. "You got it. Acoustic road trip mix or true crime podcast?"

"Music first," Mark said, checking his rearview mirror. "Save the murders for when we actually get to the cabin."

Sarah laughed, hitting play as they backed out of the driveway and headed toward the main road.


Sarah folded the last of the sweaters and zipped the canvas duffel bag. "Did you check the forecast for Cannon Beach?" she called out, leaning over the banister.

"High fifties and cloudy," Mark replied from the kitchen, the sound of the refrigerator door clicking shut echoing up the stairs. "I packed the windbreakers just in case. Do we need to bring the good coffee, or are we stopping on the way?"

"Let's just bring a bag. The Airbnb said they have a French press," Sarah said, making her way down into the kitchen. She grabbed her water bottle and filled it at the sink.

It was Friday evening, and their much-anticipated weekend trip down the Oregon coast was finally taking shape. Mark stood by the counter, scrolling through his phone. "Google Maps says traffic on I-5 South is awful right now. If we leave by seven tomorrow morning, we can miss the worst of the congestion through Tacoma."

"Seven it is," Sarah agreed, double-checking the locks on the patio door. "I'll set the alarm."

The next morning, the gray dawn was thick with Pacific Northwest drizzle. Mark loaded the duffel bag and a tote of groceries into the trunk of their Subaru while Sarah adjusted the thermostat and gave the living room ferns a quick splash of water.

"Got the phone cords?" Mark asked as he slid into the driver's seat, wiping rain from the shoulders of his jacket.

"In my purse," Sarah said, pulling the passenger door shut and buckling her seatbelt. She held up two stainless-steel travel mugs, faint wisps of steam rising from the lids. "And I made the coffee. You drive, I'll DJ."

Mark smiled, shifting the car into reverse. "Deal. Put on that playlist we listened to last time."

As they pulled out of the driveway, the quiet, rain-slicked suburban street slipped behind them, leaving nothing but the open highway ahead.


Sarah zipped her canvas duffel bag and set it by the front door, double-checking the weather app on her phone. "High sixties and partly cloudy," she called out toward the kitchen. "Did you grab the heavier jackets just in case?"

Mark emerged from the hallway, wrestling a small cooler and two travel mugs. "I put them in the trunk already. Along with the extra phone chargers." He handed her a steaming mug of coffee. "I figured we'd need the caffeine if we're going to hit the interstate before rush hour completely ruins our lives."

"Thank you," Sarah said, taking a grateful sip. "Did you adjust the thermostat?"

"Set to sixty-two." Mark set the cooler by her bag and pulled his car keys from his jeans pocket. "Are we taking I-81 all the way down to Shenandoah, or do you want to cut across the scenic route?"

Sarah thought for a moment, sliding into her denim jacket. "Let’s just stick to the interstate. I'd rather get to the rented cabin before it gets completely dark so we can actually see the driveway."

"Makes sense." Mark grabbed the duffel and the cooler in one swift motion. "You grabbing the door?"

"On it."

Sarah turned the deadbolt and pulled the front door tight, listening for the familiar click before following Mark down the driveway. The late Friday afternoon air was crisp. Mark popped the hatchback of their Subaru, tossing the bags inside next to a canvas tote of groceries they’d bought the night before.

They settled into the front seats, the doors thudding shut in unison. Mark started the engine, pairing his phone to the dashboard to pull up the GPS. As they backed out of the driveway and turned onto their quiet suburban street, Sarah rested her hand gently on the center console, the ordinary stress of the workweek already beginning to fade.


"Do we need the cooler?" Mark asked, wedging a canvas duffel into the trunk of their Subaru.

"Just for the bottled waters and the leftover pasta," Elena called from the front porch. She walked down the driveway a moment later, juggling two steaming travel mugs and a tangle of phone chargers. "I figured we could stop at that deli near New Paltz for lunch, so we don't need to pack sandwiches."

Mark closed the hatchback with a solid thud. "Deli sounds perfect. Here, let me grab those." He took the chargers, tossing them onto the center console, while Elena handed him his coffee.

It was Saturday morning, and the crisp October air promised a perfect weekend upstate. They had booked a small cabin just three weeks ago, agreeing they desperately needed a two-day break from their endless cycle of spreadsheets and commuter traffic.

Elena slid into the passenger seat and tapped their destination into her phone. "Google says two and a half hours if we take the Palisades. There's already a slowdown on the Thruway."

"Palisades it is," Mark said, starting the engine. He adjusted his mirrors, glancing over at his wife. "Did you download that true-crime podcast, or are we listening to my driving playlist?"

"I downloaded three episodes," Elena smiled, buckling her seatbelt. "But we can start with your music until we get past the bridge."

Mark backed out of their narrow driveway, the tires crunching softly over fallen oak leaves. As they navigated their quiet suburban street and merged onto the highway on-ramp, the lingering tension of the work week finally began to dissolve. Elena kicked off her loafers, angling the heating vent toward her feet, and hit play on the stereo.


Mark hoisted the dark green duffel bag into the trunk of their Subaru, nudging it against the cooler to make room for Sarah’s heavy canvas tote. It was Friday afternoon, and the crisp autumn air carried the promise of a quiet weekend.

"Did you grab the extra phone chargers?" Sarah called out from the front porch. She was jiggling the handle of the front door to ensure the deadbolt had caught, her sunglasses already pushed back into her hair.

"Got them," Mark said, slamming the trunk shut. "And I packed our own coffee grounds, too. I'm not risking whatever the Airbnb leaves in the pantry."

Sarah walked down the driveway, a water bottle in one hand and her phone in the other. "Thank God. The last time we relied on cabin coffee, I had a caffeine-withdrawal headache for two days." She slid into the passenger seat while Mark climbed behind the wheel.

"Thermostat set to sixty-five?" he asked, buckling his seatbelt.

"Sixty-five, kitchen lights are off, and the back gate is locked," she confirmed, typing the destination into the navigation app. "It says an hour and forty-five minutes with current traffic. Should we stop at the drive-thru now, or wait until we hit the highway?"

Mark put the car in reverse and backed out of the driveway. "Let's just hit the drive-thru down the street. I need an iced tea before we deal with the traffic on I-95."

Sarah nodded, adjusting the air conditioning vent. "Sounds good. And I can run in to grab a bag of ice at the gas station next to it."

As they rolled out of their neighborhood, the weekend stretched ahead of them—nothing extravagant, just two days near the lake, away from their laptops. Mark turned up the radio, and Sarah settled back into her seat, watching the familiar suburban streets slip away.


Sarah zipped the soft-sided cooler and hauled it onto the kitchen island. "Did you pack the phone chargers, or are they still on the nightstand?" she called out, pausing to wipe a smudge of water off the countertop.

"Got them," Mark said, emerging from the hallway with a navy duffel bag slung over his shoulder and a tangled mess of white cords in his free hand. "And I grabbed your heavy fleece. The forecast for Astoria dropped into the low fifties for tomorrow night."

Sarah smiled, catching the water bottle he tossed her. "Good call. I always forget how chilly the coast gets, even in June."

They spent the next ten minutes executing their familiar departure routine. Mark checked the deadbolt on the back door and bumped the thermostat up to seventy-eight, while Sarah watered the wilting pothos plant by the window and did a final sweep to make sure the stove was off.

Outside, the late afternoon sun was baking the driveway. Mark popped the trunk of their Subaru, wedging the duffel bag beside the cooler and a canvas tote filled with trail mix and fruit. He shut the hatch with a firm thud. "Ready?"

"As soon as we get coffee," Sarah said, sliding into the passenger seat.

Mark started the engine, the air conditioning instantly kicking on to fight the trapped heat. "Drive-thru at Tenth Street?"

"Perfect," Sarah said, pulling out her phone to pull up the map. "If we hit the highway by five, the GPS says we should beat the worst of the Portland commuter traffic. We can be at the rental cabin by seven-thirty."

Mark shifted into reverse, backing out into the quiet suburban street. "Sounds like a plan. Find us a good playlist, will you?"

Sarah tapped the screen, settling on a familiar acoustic mix, and settled back as their neighborhood rolled past the window.


The kitchen island was a chaotic landscape of canvas duffel bags, road snacks, and tangled charging cords.

"Do you think we need the heavier jackets?" David asked, holding up a thick gray fleece. "The forecast for Asheville says it might drop to the low forties at night."

Elena didn’t look up from her phone, her thumb swiping across a weather app. "Bring them. It's better than freezing by the fire pit. Did you pack the dog's medication?"

"In the front pocket of the green bag," David confirmed, stuffing the fleece in beside it. He zipped the duffel with a satisfying pull. "Okay, I'll start loading the Outback. You grab the cooler?"

"On it," Elena said. She hoisted the canvas tote bag filled with pretzels, honeycrisp apples, and two travel mugs of freshly brewed coffee.

Ten minutes later, the crisp October air nipped at them as they stood in the driveway. David was rearranging the trunk for the second time, trying to find the perfect geometric fit for their small cooler.

"Just put the grocery bags in the backseat, Dave. It's only a three-hour drive," Elena teased, shivering slightly in her denim jacket.

He sighed, relenting, and pushed the hatch shut. "Fine, fine. But I'm driving the first leg."

"Deal. Can we stop at the gas station near the interstate? I want to grab a sparkling water."

"As long as you don't mind navigating out of the city traffic," David said, walking around to the driver's side.

They climbed into the car, the familiar smell of leather and morning cold greeting them. Elena plugged her phone into the dashboard, pulling up their favorite acoustic playlist. As David shifted into reverse and backed out of the driveway, Elena took a sip of her coffee, the heavy stress of the workweek finally beginning to fade.


The trunk of the Subaru closed with a satisfying thud.

"Did you remember the cooler?" David asked, wiping a smudge of dust off the rear bumper.

Elena emerged from the garage, double-checking the lock on the side door. "It’s in the backseat. I packed the turkey sandwiches, some apples, and those sparkling waters you like. Did you set the alarm?"

"Set, and the thermostat is turned down to sixty-two," David confirmed, tossing her the keys. "You want to drive first?"

"Sure. But you're on navigation duty." Elena slid into the driver's seat and adjusted the rearview mirror.

They were heading to a rented cabin in the Shenandoah Valley, a much-needed two-night escape from their townhouse in Arlington. The Friday morning traffic was already starting to build on I-66, a familiar suburban gridlock they both hoped to outpace.

David buckled his seatbelt and pulled up the map on his phone. "Google says there's a slow-down near Centreville. If we take Route 29 for a bit, it only adds ten minutes to the trip but keeps us moving."

"Let's do 29," Elena agreed, pulling out of their driveway. "I can't stand sitting still behind red brake lights. Plus, isn't there that drive-thru espresso place on the way?"

"The one with the good breakfast burritos? Yeah." David tapped the screen to add a stop to their route. "You want your usual iced oat milk latte?"

"Please


Sarah stood in the kitchen, double-checking her mental checklist while Mark wrestled their canvas overnight bag into the trunk of the Honda CR-V.

"Did you set the thermostat to sixty-five?" Mark called out from the garage, his voice echoing slightly against the concrete walls.

"Yes, and I watered the ferns," Sarah replied, grabbing her insulated travel mug from the counter. She did a final visual sweep of the kitchen—stove off, coffee maker unplugged, back door deadbolted. Satisfied, she stepped out into the garage and hit the lights.

When she reached the passenger side, Mark was already behind the wheel, scrolling through his phone.

"Google Maps says the traffic on I-87 isn't too bad, but we might hit a slowdown near Albany," he said, tossing his phone into the center console and shifting the car into reverse.

"That's fine. We have the snacks," Sarah said, dropping a canvas tote bag full of trail mix, honeycrisp apples, and sparkling water at her feet. "Did you want to finish that true crime podcast, or are we listening to music?"

"Let's stick to music until we get past the city. I need something upbeat to shake off the work week."

"Eighties pop it is," Sarah smiled, connecting her phone to the car's Bluetooth. As the opening synth chords of a Tears for Fears song filled the cabin, Mark carefully backed out of their driveway.

They navigated the quiet suburban streets of their neighborhood, the late Friday afternoon sun casting long, golden shadows across the manicured lawns. Stopping at a red light, Mark reached over and briefly squeezed Sarah's knee.

"Ready for two days of absolutely nothing?" he asked.

"More than ready," she sighed, sinking comfortably into her seat as they merged onto the highway, leaving the house and the week behind them.


Sarah zipped her canvas duffel bag and hoisted it off the kitchen island. "Are you bringing the heavier jacket?" she asked, glancing out the window. The Ohio sky was already bruised with early evening dusk.

Mark looked up from his phone, tapping a route into Google Maps. "Yeah, I threw it in the trunk. The Airbnb reviews said the cabin gets pretty drafty at night. Plus, if we actually hike Old Man’s Cave tomorrow morning, we'll definitely need layers."

"Good call." Sarah grabbed her travel mug and filled it with the last of the morning's coffee, unbothered that it was lukewarm. "Are we stopping for a sit-down dinner, or just grabbing drive-thru on the way south?"

"Traffic on I-71 is already backing up," Mark said, pocketing his phone and grabbing his keys. "Let's just hit the Wendy's near the highway and eat in the car. That way we can find the cabin's lockbox before it gets completely pitch black."

"Deal." Sarah handed him her duffel. "I'll do the final sweep. Put that in the car?"

While Mark carried their bags out to the Subaru, Sarah went through their usual departure ritual: double-checking the back patio lock, lowering the thermostat to sixty-two degrees, and flipping on the porch light for security.

When she finally climbed into the passenger seat, Mark already had the engine running and the heater blasting. He gestured toward the dashboard screen. "You're the DJ. Pick something upbeat, we've got an hour and a half to go."

Sarah smiled, scrolling through her Spotify playlists until she found their favorite indie-folk mix. As a familiar acoustic guitar intro filled the cabin, Mark shifted into reverse and backed out of the driveway, leaving the quiet predictability of their work week behind.


Sarah zipped her canvas duffel bag and hauled it to the front door, nudging it next to their pile of hiking boots. From the kitchen, the refrigerator door clicked shut, followed by the shuffling of Mark’s sneakers on the hardwood floor.

"Did you grab the insulated water bottles?" Sarah asked, double-checking the locks on the living room windows.

"Got them," Mark called out, appearing in the hallway with a canvas tote bag full of snacks and a half-empty box of granola bars. "I left the leftover chicken, though. Figured we’d just grab dinner at a pub near Jim Thorpe once we check into the Airbnb."

"Good call. I don't want to do dishes this weekend anyway." Sarah grabbed her keys from the ceramic bowl on the console table. "Did you adjust the thermostat?"

"Set to sixty-five," Mark said, pulling on his fleece jacket. He picked up both duffel bags, balancing the snack tote clumsily on his wrist. "Ready?"

"Ready."

Outside, the crisp October air carried the faint scent of woodsmoke and fallen leaves. They loaded the trunk of their Subaru, the heavy slam of the hatch echoing quietly in their suburban cul-de-sac. Mark slid into the driver’s seat while Sarah settled into the passenger side, immediately opening the navigation app on her phone.

"It’s looking like about two hours if we take the Turnpike," Sarah noted, watching the blue route calculate on the glowing screen. "There’s a little red traffic near Allentown, but it shouldn't hold us up long."

"Turnpike is fine. Do we need to stop for gas?"

"We have three-quarters of a tank. Let's just hit the drive-thru for coffee and get on the highway."

Mark shifted the car into reverse, backing out of the driveway. As they pulled out of the neighborhood, Sarah queued up their favorite playlist, the familiar acoustic chords setting a relaxing rhythm for the weekend ahead.


Mark zipped the small canvas duffel bag and set it by the front door, next to Sarah’s rolling suitcase. It was Friday morning, and the house was quiet except for the low hum of the refrigerator.

"Did you pack the phone chargers?" Sarah called from the kitchen. She leaned against the granite counter, scrolling through the weather app on her phone. "It says it might drop into the forties tomorrow night in Asheville."

"Got them," Mark said, walking into the kitchen and grabbing his sunglasses from the ceramic bowl. "And I threw in your heavy fleece just in case. Do we need to water the ferns before we leave?"

Sarah glanced at the potted plants by the sink. "I did them last night. But we should probably adjust the thermostat. No point paying to heat an empty house."

Mark nodded, stepping into the hallway to tap the dial down to sixty degrees. They had been planning this three-day weekend for a month, a much-needed break from their overlapping work schedules. The itinerary was simple: drive four hours south, check into the bed-and-breakfast, and hike a few moderate trails.

"Okay, car time," Sarah said. She grabbed her insulated travel mug and slung her purse over her shoulder. Mark carried the bags out to their Subaru, situating them in the trunk while Sarah triple-checked the front deadbolt.

As Mark climbed into the driver’s seat, he started the engine and pulled up the GPS on the dashboard screen. "Estimated time of arrival is two-thirty. Do you want to hit the drive-thru for breakfast, or wait until we cross the state line?"

"Drive-thru," Sarah decided, clicking her seatbelt into place. "I need a giant iced coffee before I can deal with Interstate 81."

Mark smiled, shifting the car into reverse. "One giant iced coffee coming up."


The zipper of the canvas duffel bag snagged, but Mark gave it a practiced tug and it sealed. "Okay, that's the last of the clothes," he called out, hoisting the bag over his shoulder.

In the kitchen, Sarah was standing by the open fridge, tapping her chin. "Are we going to need two packs of turkey? It's only two nights at the cabin."

"Better safe than hungry," Mark said, dropping the bag by the front door. "Plus, if it rains tomorrow like the forecast says, we’re going to be eating sandwiches and playing Scrabble all afternoon."

Sarah pulled both packs of deli meat from the shelf and tossed them into their blue cooler. "Fair point. Did you grab your rain jacket?"

"It's in the trunk." Mark grabbed his keys from the ceramic bowl on the entryway table. "Did you lock the back door?"

"Checking now," Sarah said. She walked down the hallway, jiggled the handle of the patio door, and returned, satisfied. She zipped up her fleece and picked up her travel mug of coffee. "All set."

They walked out into the crisp October morning, the leaves in their Ohio neighborhood just beginning to turn orange and gold. Mark popped the trunk of the Honda and wedged the cooler next to the duffel bag and a small bundle of firewood they’d bought the night before.

Once inside the car, Sarah plugged her phone into the dashboard console. "GPS says it's about an hour and forty-five minutes to Hocking Hills, assuming traffic on I-71 isn't awful."

"Put on that podcast we started last week," Mark said, shifting the car into reverse and glancing at the backup camera.

Sarah hit play, and as the familiar intro music filled the cabin, Mark backed out of the driveway, turning the car south toward the highway.


The open suitcase took up half the bed, threatening to spill over onto Sarah’s side. She folded two thick sweaters and wedged a pair of hiking boots into the corner.

"Do you think I need the rain jacket?" she called out to the hallway.

Mark appeared in the doorway, holding a half-empty bag of pretzels and his phone. "Forecast says thirty percent chance of showers Saturday afternoon," he said, swiping down on his screen. "Better safe than sorry. By the way, are we taking my car or yours?"

"Yours gets better highway mileage," Sarah said, zipping her bag shut. "Did you leave the spare house key for Mrs. Gable?"

"Under the porch mat. I walked her through the cat’s feeding schedule twice. Buster will be fine." Mark tossed the pretzels onto the dresser. "I'll go load the trunk."

The next morning, the kitchen island became a staging ground of travel mugs, sunglasses, and tangled phone chargers. Mark carried the bags out to the Honda while Sarah did a final sweep of the house, double-checking the stove dials and making sure the deadbolt clicked shut.

"Got the snacks?" Mark asked as she finally slid into the passenger seat, handing him a thermos of hot coffee.

"Pretzels, two apples, and the trail mix from the pantry," Sarah confirmed. She adjusted the air conditioning vent and pulled up the GPS on her phone. "If we take I-81, we avoid the tolls, but it adds about twenty minutes to the drive."

"Let's take the long way," Mark decided, checking his mirrors and shifting into drive. "We're in no rush to get to the bed-and-breakfast."

Sarah smiled, settling into her seat as Mark pulled out of their driveway, the quiet neighborhood streets soon giving way to the open highway.


The kitchen island was a chaotic grid of canvas weekenders, a small cooler, and a tangled heap of charging cables.

"Did you pack the rain jackets?" David called from the hallway, his voice muffled by the coat closet door.

"I put yours in the blue duffel," Elena yelled back, snapping the lid onto a plastic container of sliced bell peppers and tossing it into the cooler. "But grab my fleece, just in case. You know how the weather gets on the coast."

David emerged, holding her navy fleece and a pair of sunglasses. "Got it. Have we decided on the route? Maps says I-95 is backed up near the bridge, but the scenic route adds forty minutes."

Elena wiped down the granite counter and threw the dish towel into the sink. She pulled up the navigation app on her own phone. "Let’s take the scenic route. We’re not in a rush, and we can stop at that little diner in Salem for coffee."

"Sold," David said, zipping the last bag. He hoisted the cooler by its plastic handles. "Can you grab my water bottle? And make sure the thermostat is set to sixty-five before we head out."

"Already done." Elena grabbed the water bottles, her purse, and did a final sweep of the living room. She locked the deadbolt behind them, the crisp Saturday morning air a welcome change from the stale house.

David popped the trunk of their Subaru, arranging the bags with practiced precision while Elena climbed into the passenger seat and queued up their favorite podcast.

When David slid behind the wheel, he buckled up and smiled at her. "To Salem, then?"

"To Salem," she agreed, reclining her seat a fraction. "But if they're out of those blueberry scones, we're turning around."


Mark zipped his duffel bag and set it by the front door next to Sarah’s rolling suitcase. It was Friday evening, and the drive to the Cape was supposed to take just under two hours, provided they beat the worst of the Boston commuter traffic.

"Did you grab the cooler?" Sarah called from the kitchen, the refrigerator door closing with a soft thud.

"Yeah, it’s already in the trunk," Mark replied, stepping into the kitchen. "Did we decide if we're stopping for dinner on the way, or eating when we get to the Airbnb?"

Sarah handed him a canvas tote bag filled with road snacks—mostly pretzels, apples, and a few granola bars. "Let's stop at that diner near the highway exit. The one we went to last summer. I don't want to cook tonight, and by the time we check in, it'll be past eight."

"Sounds like a plan." Mark patted his pockets: phone, wallet, keys. "Are the windows locked?"

"Locked, and I turned the thermostat down to sixty-two," Sarah said, tossing her denim jacket over her arm. She paused by the back door, scanning the kitchen one last time. "Coffee maker is off. Trash is out. I think we’re good."

They carried their bags out to the driveway. The late afternoon air held the crisp chill of mid-October. Mark popped the trunk of their Subaru and arranged the luggage around the cooler, while Sarah settled into the passenger seat and began typing the destination into the GPS.

"ETA is seven-fifteen," she announced as Mark slid behind the steering wheel and started the engine.

"Not bad," he said, shifting the car into reverse. He glanced at her and smiled, the stress of the workweek already beginning to fade. "Ready?"

"So ready," she sighed, turning up the radio.


Mark zipped up his canvas duffel bag and set it by the front door. "Did you grab the phone chargers?" he called down the hallway.

"Got them," Sarah replied, emerging from the bedroom with her tote bag and a green fleece jacket draped over her arm. "I also packed that trail mix from the pantry. I figured we’d want something to snack on before we reach Sedona."

Mark glanced at the kitchen clock; it was already 5:15 PM. The Friday evening traffic on I-17 would be thick, but the promise of a weekend away from their laptops made the looming commute bearable. "Good call. Did you set the thermostat?"

"Turned it down to sixty-five," she said, walking into the kitchen to double-check the back door lock. She gave the handle a firm tug to make sure it caught. "And I took the kitchen trash out this morning. I think we’re good to go."

"Great." Mark patted his pockets, doing his mental checklist for his wallet and keys. "I’ll load the bags into the trunk. You want to fill up the water bottles?"

Five minutes later, they were sitting in their Honda. Sarah adjusted the passenger seat and plugged her phone into the center console, pulling up the GPS. "It says two hours and forty minutes with the current delays," she noted, tapping the screen.

"Not too bad," Mark said, shifting the car into reverse. He backed out of their driveway, giving their suburban house a quick final glance. "We can stop for dinner in Black Canyon City if you get hungry."

"Let's see how we feel," Sarah said, settling back as the navigation app instructed them to turn right. Mark turned up the radio, and they rolled out of the neighborhood, finally leaving the workweek behind.


Mark zipped up the canvas duffel bag, double-checking the side pocket for phone chargers. "Did you grab the sunscreen?" he called out toward the hallway.

Elena appeared in the bedroom doorway, holding two insulated travel mugs. "In my tote," she said, handing him the silver mug. "And I packed the trail mix. Black coffee for you, oat milk latte for me."

Mark took a sip, nodding appreciatively. "Perfect. I think we're good to go. Did you set the thermostat?"

"Set to sixty-eight, and the back door is locked." Elena pulled her sunglasses from her purse and perched them on her head. "Are we taking I-66 or the scenic route? GPS says traffic is already building up near Centreville."

Mark grabbed the duffel and headed out to the driveway. The crisp Saturday morning air felt like a promise after a grueling workweek. He tossed their bags into the trunk of the Subaru while Elena settled into the passenger seat, immediately connecting her phone to the car's Bluetooth.

"Let's stick to the highway until we pass the congestion," Mark said, climbing into the driver's seat and adjusting the rearview mirror. "Then we can take the back roads into Shenandoah. I want to get to the cabin before three."

"Sounds like a plan." Elena scrolled through her screen. "I downloaded the new episodes of that true crime podcast, and a couple of history ones in case we need a palate cleanser."

"Start with the history," Mark smiled, shifting the car into reverse. "I don't need any murder mysteries before I've finished my coffee."

Elena laughed, hitting play as they pulled out of the driveway, the familiar asphalt humming beneath their tires as they headed toward the mountains.


Sarah tossed a folded grey sweater onto the bed, then hesitated. "Do you think I need the heavy fleece for the coast, or just the windbreaker?"

Mark looked up from his phone, where he was scrolling through the local weather app. "It says it’ll drop to fifty degrees by the water tomorrow night. I'm bringing my winter jacket. Better safe than sorry."

"Fleece it is," Sarah said, stuffing the bulky pullover into her canvas duffel. She zipped the bag and dragged it out to the hallway. "Did you remember to adjust the thermostat?"

"Down to sixty-five," Mark replied, emerging from the master bathroom with his leather toiletry kit. "And I took the kitchen trash out. If we leave by seven tomorrow, we should beat the worst of the I-95 traffic."

"Seven is fine, but I’m making coffee here. I don't want to waste twenty minutes at a drive-thru when we could be making time."

"Agreed. I'll program the coffee maker to start brewing at six-thirty."

The next morning, the suburban sky was still a bruised purple when they carried their bags out to the driveway. The crisp air bit at their cheeks as Mark popped the trunk of their Subaru. He arranged the two duffels alongside a tote bag filled with road-trip snacks and a couple of water bottles.

Sarah locked the front door, instinctively pulling the handle twice to make sure it caught, before sliding into the passenger seat. She handed Mark his insulated travel mug as he settled behind the wheel.

"Got the GPS going?" Mark asked, plugging his phone into the dashboard console.

"Routing us to the bed and breakfast now," Sarah said, tapping the screen. "ETA is nine-forty."

Mark put the car in reverse, taking a sip of the hot coffee. "Alright. Let's get out of here."


Sarah stood by the kitchen island, scrolling through the weather app on her phone. "It says it might drop into the low forties tomorrow night up near Asheville. Do you think we need the heavier winter jackets, or just layers?"

Mark looked up from the cooler he was stocking with sparkling water, a block of sharp cheddar, and the leftover pasta from Thursday night. "Better safe than sorry. Just grab my heavy fleece, will you? The gray one in the hall closet."

"Done," Sarah said, double-checking her mental list. They had booked the small A-frame cabin over a month ago, desperate for a short weekend away from their home offices and the endless drone of suburban lawnmowers.

She jogged upstairs, returning a few minutes later with their jackets and a canvas tote bag stuffed with paperback novels they had both sworn they would finally finish. Mark was already at the front door, tying his sneakers. He had already managed to fit their shared duffel bag, the cooler, and a grocery sack of road-trip snacks into the trunk of their Honda CR-V.

"Did you set the thermostat to the 'away' schedule?" Mark asked, tossing her a travel mug of coffee.

"Yep, and I watered the porch ferns," Sarah replied, catching it by the handle. She did a final


Mark stared at his phone screen, shaking his head. "The weather app says it's going to drop down to forty degrees in Asheville tomorrow night."

Sarah tossed another thick wool sweater into her canvas weekender bag. "See? And you made fun of me for packing the heavy coats."

"I wasn't making fun," Mark protested, zipping his own surprisingly stuffed duffel. "I just didn't think we needed arctic gear for a two-day trip in October."

"Better safe," she said, pulling the zipper of her bag shut with a firm tug.

The next morning, the kitchen hummed with the familiar routine of departure. Mark poured dark roast coffee into two travel mugs while Sarah did the final sweep of the house. She adjusted the thermostat, made sure the back door was deadbolted, and unplugged the toaster—a quirky habit Mark had long ago stopped questioning.

"Got the snacks?" Sarah asked, stepping out into the garage.

"Pretzels, apples, and the trail mix," Mark confirmed, popping the trunk of their Honda CR-V. He arranged the bags next to a small cooler of sparkling water, closing the hatch with a satisfying thud.

Once settled in the driver's seat, Sarah plugged her phone into the dashboard, pulling up the map. "Two hours and forty minutes, assuming traffic on I-40 isn't a nightmare."

Mark handed her a steaming mug of coffee and adjusted his seatbelt. "Put on that acoustic playlist you made. The one we listened to on the way to Savannah last year."

Sarah smiled, tapping the screen. As the gentle strum of a guitar filled the cabin, she shifted the car into reverse. They backed out of the driveway, the familiar suburban sprawl soon giving way to the open highway, the promise of a quiet weekend waiting in the mountains ahead.


Friday evening sunlight slanted through the kitchen blinds as Sarah zipped up her canvas duffel bag. "Did you check the forecast for Asheville?" she called out, leaning over the kitchen island to grab her empty travel mug.

Mark walked in from the garage, dangling the car keys. "Yeah, it’s supposed to drop into the low fifties tomorrow night. I threw my heavy fleece in the trunk. You might want that gray knit cardigan."

"Good call," Sarah said, making a quick detour to the hall closet. She emerged with the sweater draped over her arm. "Do we have the small cooler for the road?"

"Already in the backseat," Mark replied, picking up her duffel. "I packed the sparkling water, a couple of apples, and that trail mix you like. I also grabbed the printout of the cabin confirmation, just in case we lose cell service up in the mountains."

"You're a lifesaver. I just need to water the kitchen pothos, and we can go."

Ten minutes later, the front door was locked, the thermostat was set back to sixty-five degrees, and they were strapped into their Subaru. Mark tapped the cabin's address into the dashboard GPS. "Estimated time of arrival is eight-thirty," he announced, adjusting his rearview mirror. "Not bad, assuming the Friday traffic on I-40 isn't a total mess."

Sarah reclined her seat a couple of inches and connected her phone to the car's Bluetooth. "I've got the new true-crime podcast cued up, or we can just listen to the weekend acoustic playlist."

"Let's start with the playlist," Mark said, shifting the car into reverse. "I need to decompress from work first."

Sarah smiled, hitting play. As they rolled out of their driveway and turned onto the street, the stress of the week finally began to fade.


The crisp Saturday morning air filled the garage as Sarah hoisted the canvas duffel bag into the trunk of their Subaru.

"Did you grab the charging cables?" she called out, shifting a stack of beach towels to make room for the cooler.

Mark emerged from the kitchen door, balancing two travel mugs and a tote bag overflowing with road-trip snacks. "Got yours and mine," he said, handing her a steaming mug of coffee. "And I packed the heavy fleece jackets, just in case the coastal wind picks up tonight."

"Good thinking," Sarah said, wrapping both hands around the warm ceramic. "The forecast said mid-sixties, but you know how Cannon Beach gets."

Mark shut the trunk with a solid thud and walked around to the driver's side. "Okay, so what’s the verdict on the route? GPS says Route 26 is mostly clear, but we could take the scenic way through the state forest if we aren't in a rush."

Sarah paused, tapping her fingers against her mug. "Let's stick to 26. I'd rather get to the cabin by noon so we can drop our bags and grab lunch at that little seafood shack we found last year."

"Sounds like a plan," Mark agreed, jingling the car keys. "Before we go—did we lock the back patio door?"

"I double-checked it," Sarah assured him, sliding into the passenger seat. "And I remembered to lower the thermostat."

They settled into the familiar grooves of their seats. Mark started the engine, the dashboard quietly humming to life with their favorite local radio station. As he backed out of the driveway, Sarah opened the glove compartment, fishing out her sunglasses.

"Ready for a weekend of absolutely nothing?" Mark asked, glancing at her with a tired but genuine smile.

"More than ready," Sarah sighed, leaning back as they pulled out of the neighborhood and pointed the car west.


Mark zipped the small canvas duffel bag and set it by the front door. "Are we sure one bag is enough for both of us?" he called out toward the kitchen.

"It’s only two nights in Sedona," Sarah replied, appearing with a pair of travel mugs steaming with black coffee. She handed him one and leaned against the hallway wall. "Besides, the forecast says it’s going to be in the upper seventies all weekend. We just need hiking clothes and maybe one decent outfit for dinner."

Mark took a sip, nodding. "Fair enough. Did you grab the sunscreen? I think we left it on the bathroom counter."

Sarah patted the side pocket of her olive-green backpack. "Way ahead of you. I also packed the trail mix and those granola bars we bought last week."

"Perfect." Mark pulled his keys from his jeans pocket. "I lowered the thermostat and double-checked the back door. Ready?"

"Ready," she said, offering a tired but genuine smile. It had been a long work week at the firm for her, and a grueling few days at the clinic for him. They both desperately needed the change of scenery.

They stepped out into the crisp Arizona morning, the gravel crunching under their sneakers as they loaded the trunk of their Subaru. Once settled in the driver’s seat, Mark tapped the ignition and connected his phone to the dashboard screen. The map application glowed to life, estimating a two-hour drive up Interstate 17.

"Do you want to listen to the new history podcast, or just music?" Sarah asked, scrolling through the options on the console.

"Let’s start with music. Maybe that acoustic playlist you made?" Mark suggested, checking his mirrors before pulling out of the driveway.

"Acoustic it is," Sarah agreed, settling back into her seat as the soft strum of a guitar filled the car.


The scent of dark roast coffee filled the kitchen as David zipped up his canvas duffel bag.

"Did you remember the extra phone chargers?" Elena called from the hallway, her voice muffled slightly by the open door of the coat closet.

"Packed them in the front pocket of the blue backpack," David replied, taking a sip from his travel mug. He tapped the weather app on his phone. "Looks like it’s going to rain Sunday morning up near Asheville, so I threw in our rain jackets just in case."

Elena emerged holding a canvas tote bag overflowing with snacks. "Good call. I’ve got the road trip essentials: almonds, a couple of apples, and those overly salty pretzels you like." She set the bag on the granite island and sighed, looking around the tidy kitchen. "Did we lock the back door?"

"I'll double-check," David said. He walked through the living room, ensuring the deadbolt was firmly turned, and paused to bump the thermostat down to sixty-five degrees for the weekend.

By the time he returned, Elena was already jingling the Subaru keys. "I'll drive the first leg if you navigate," she offered. "I want to take the I-40 route to avoid that bridge construction on the state highway."

"Deal," David agreed, grabbing the small cooler by its handle.

They walked out into the crisp Saturday morning air, the North Carolina humidity not yet awake. David hoisted the bags into the trunk, rearranging them slightly so the cooler was easily accessible, before pulling the hatch shut.

Elena slid into the driver’s seat, adjusting the rearview mirror while David buckled himself in on the passenger side. He plugged his phone into the dashboard, pulling up the GPS.

"ETA is two hours and forty minutes," David announced, queuing up a playlist.

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


Sarah leaned against the kitchen counter, scrolling through the weather app on her phone. "It’s going to drop into the low forties tonight up in the Blue Ridge," she said, looking up at Mark. "Did you pack the heavy fleece jackets?"

Mark closed the lid of the blue cooler and wiped his hands on a dish towel. "I grabbed mine. I’ll throw yours in the duffel right now. Do we have enough bottled water, or should we stop at the convenience store on the way to the interstate?"

"We have plenty," Sarah said, tossing him the keys to the Subaru. "But we still need to stop for gas. And coffee. I am not surviving a three-hour drive without coffee."

"Gas and Dunkin'. Got it." Mark smiled, catching the keys. "Can you grab the grocery bags with the snacks? I’ll start loading the trunk."

Fifteen minutes later, the front door was locked, the thermostat was set to an energy-saving sixty-five degrees, and the neighbor had been texted to keep an eye out for any stray Amazon packages.

Sarah climbed into the passenger seat and immediately plugged her phone into the center console, bringing up the navigation display on the dashboard. "Traffic looks clear on I-81," she noted, adjusting the air vent. "Estimated time of arrival is right around two-thirty."

Mark slid into the driver's seat and adjusted the rearview mirror. He took a quick, habitual glance at the house, then put the car in reverse. "Did you double-check the back door?"

"Locked and bolted," Sarah confirmed. She queued up their favorite road-trip playlist, the familiar acoustic guitar notes filling the quiet cabin.

"Alright then," Mark said, shifting into drive and pulling out of their suburban cul-de-sac. "Cabin weekend, here we come."


"Should we bring the heavier coats?" Sarah called from the bedroom, a pile of flannel shirts and sweaters already taking over the duvet.

Mark looked up from his phone, where he was double-checking the traffic route to the cabin. "It's supposed to drop into the forties at night," he replied, walking down the hall. "Better safe than shivering."

It was Friday evening, and their short weekend trip to the Catskills was finally materializing. While Sarah curated their weekend wardrobe, Mark headed to the kitchen to pack the cooler. He tossed in a block of sharp cheddar, some grapes, and the leftover pasta from Tuesday, mentally calculating if they needed to stop for ice before hitting the highway.

By Saturday morning, the forecast held true—crisp and perfectly clear. Mark carried the canvas duffel bag down the front steps of their duplex, his breath pluming slightly in the early air. Sarah followed close behind, locking the deadbolt and tugging the handle twice, a safety habit she’d never quite managed to break.

"Did you grab the phone chargers?" Mark asked, popping the trunk of their Subaru.

"In my purse," Sarah said, sliding into the passenger seat. "Along with the trail mix. I even remembered the good coffee thermos."

Mark grinned, starting the engine. The dashboard clock glowed 7:14 AM. He backed out of the driveway while Sarah connected her phone to the Bluetooth, scrolling through her playlists to find a good driving mix.

"We need gas before we hit the interstate," Mark noted, tapping the fuel gauge. "Want to stop at the Wawa on Route 9?"

"Only if I can get a breakfast sandwich," Sarah negotiated, settling back into her seat.

"Deal." Mark merged onto the main road, the quiet, comfortable rhythm of their weekend away finally beginning.


The faded blue cooler sat open on the kitchen island. Sarah dropped in a plastic container of washed grapes, followed by two turkey and provolone sandwiches wrapped tightly in foil.

"Do we have enough ice packs?" Mark asked, leaning into the open freezer. He emerged with three frozen blue blocks, tossing them into the cooler.

"That should be plenty," Sarah said, zipping the lid shut. "It's only a three-hour drive to Asheville. Did you check the tires on the Subaru?"

"Yep, air pressure is good, and I filled the tank on my way home from the office." Mark wiped down the granite counter with a damp cloth. "What time are we hitting the road?"

"If we leave by eight, we'll completely miss the morning traffic," Sarah replied.

The next morning at 7:30, the house was a flurry of quiet, efficient motion. Sarah poured dark roast coffee into two insulated travel mugs while Mark lugged their shared canvas duffel bag out to the driveway.

"I'm adjusting the thermostat," Mark called out from the hallway, tapping the digital dial down to sixty-two degrees. "Did you remember to leave the key for the neighbor?"

"Under the mat, and I texted her the alarm code," Sarah replied, handing Mark his steaming mug. She grabbed her sunglasses from the entryway table and did a final visual sweep of the living room. "Lights are off. Stove is off. We're good to go."

Mark locked the front door behind them, the crisp October air a welcome start to the weekend. They settled into the front seats, the familiar rhythm of a road trip settling over them. Mark plugged his phone into the dashboard, pulling up the GPS.

"Audiobook or a podcast?" he asked, putting the car in reverse.

"Podcast for the first hour," Sarah decided, adjusting her seatbelt. "Then we'll see."

Mark nodded, backing out of the driveway and pointing the car toward the highway.


Sarah zipped her canvas duffel bag shut, pressing down hard on the sides to accommodate a bulky fleece pullover. It was only a two-night stay at a rented cabin in the Poconos, but November weather in Pennsylvania was notoriously fickle.

"Are you bringing the big thermos or just the travel mugs?" Mark called from the kitchen.

"Just the mugs!" Sarah answered. She slung up her bag and headed down the narrow hallway of their townhouse. Mark was leaning against the granite counter, scrolling through Google Maps on his phone while the coffee maker sputtered its final drops into the carafe.

"Traffic on I-80 looks pretty heavy already," Mark said, frowning at the jagged red lines on his screen. "If we take the state highways, it adds about twenty minutes, but we avoid the toll plaza bottleneck."

"Let's take the scenic route, then," Sarah said, dropping her bag by the front door. "I'd rather keep moving than sit in a line of brake lights. Plus, we can stop at that little diner in Stroudsburg for lunch."

Mark smiled, pouring the dark roast into their stainless steel mugs. "Good call. Did you double-check the back door?"

"Locked and bolted," she confirmed. "You grab the coffee, I’ll load up the trunk."

Ten minutes later, the back of their Subaru was packed with their luggage, a tote bag full of groceries, and a spare wool blanket. Mark adjusted the driver’s seat to his liking while


Sarah leaned against the kitchen island, scrolling through the weather app on her phone. "It’s going to drop to the low fifties on Saturday night," she said. "We should probably bring the heavier jackets."

Mark looked up from the open pantry, two boxes of granola bars in his hands. "Good call. Peanut butter or chocolate chip?"

"Both," Sarah replied, tossing her phone onto the counter. "It’s only a two-day trip, but you know how we get after hiking."

They were heading to a rented cabin in the Adirondacks, a three-hour drive from their home in Syracuse. It had been months since they’d managed a weekend away, and the shared preparation felt comfortably routine.

The next afternoon, the trunk of their Subaru was packed with practiced efficiency. Mark slammed the hatch shut, double-checking through the rear window that the cooler was wedged securely against their duffel bags.

"Did you grab the snacks?" he asked, sliding into the driver's seat and starting the engine.

Sarah clicked her seatbelt into place and held up a canvas tote bag. "Snacks are secured. I also filled the travel mugs with the last of the coffee. Do you want to get gas at the station near the highway, or wait until we’re out of the city?"

Mark checked his mirrors and pulled out of their driveway. "Let's just stop now. Traffic on 81 North is going to be a mess by five o'clock, and I'd rather just get it out of the way."

"Sounds good. I'll queue up a podcast," Sarah said, tapping the touchscreen on the dashboard. "True crime or history?"

"History," Mark said, merging onto the main road. "Let's ease into the weekend."

Sarah smiled, selecting an episode, and settled into her seat as the familiar neighborhood slowly gave way to the open highway.


The zipper on the canvas duffel bag refused to close until Sarah gave it a firm, two-handed tug.

"Got it," she called out, carrying the bag from the bedroom into the hallway.

Mark looked up from his phone at the kitchen island. "Nice. I just set the thermostat to sixty-five, and Mrs. Higgins texted back—she’s fine with feeding the cat twice a day."

"Perfect. Did you remember the extra phone chargers?"

"Already in the glove compartment," Mark said, grabbing his sunglasses from the counter. "You want to drive first, or should I?"

Sarah picked up her travel mug, still steaming with dark roast coffee. "I'll navigate for the first leg. Let me finish my coffee before I have to merge onto the highway."

They carried their bags out to the driveway. The crisp Saturday morning air held the promise of an easy weekend away. Their destination was a small coastal town just three hours north—close enough to avoid the exhaustion of a flight, but far enough to break the routine of their suburban lives.

Mark popped the trunk of their SUV and tossed the bags inside, nestling them next to a small cooler packed with sparkling water, grapes, and pretzels. Sarah did a final sweep of the front porch, pulling the door shut and making sure the deadbolt clicked securely into place.

Once inside the car, Mark started the engine while Sarah typed the address of their rented cabin into the GPS.

"Estimated time of arrival is eleven-thirty," she announced, adjusting the passenger seat. "Assuming we don't hit too much construction on Interstate 95."

"We should be fine," Mark said, pulling out of the driveway and checking the rearview mirror. "Want to put on that history podcast we started last week?"

"Only if you promise not to pause it every five minutes to add your own commentary," she teased, taking a sip of her coffee. Mark chuckled, turning the steering wheel toward the highway.


Mark zipped his canvas duffel bag and set it by the front door. "Did you remember to pack the extra phone chargers?" he called down the hallway.

"I grabbed two," Sarah shouted back, emerging from the bedroom with her weekend tote and a half-empty travel mug of coffee. She set the tote next to his bag. "Are we taking the toll road or the scenic route? The GPS says Interstate 95 is already backing up near the city."

Mark checked his watch. It was just past eight on Saturday morning, and they had a three-hour drive to their rented cabin in the Blue Ridge Mountains. "Let's take Route 1. It adds twenty minutes, but at least we'll keep moving. I can't handle bumper-to-bumper traffic before I've had a proper breakfast."

"Route 1 it is. Maybe we can stop at that diner in Charlottesville." Sarah walked over to the hallway thermostat, tapping the down arrow until it rested at an economical sixty-two degrees. "Did you take the kitchen trash out?"

"Yep. Bins are on the curb." Mark picked up both bags, balancing them easily, and nudged the front door open with his hip. "I'll load up the trunk. You do the final sweep?"

"Already on it." Sarah did her customary lap around the first floor, checking that the oven was off, the coffee maker was unplugged, and the back door was securely deadbolted. Satisfied, she grabbed a bag of trail mix from the kitchen counter and stepped out into the crisp autumn morning, double-locking the front door behind her.

Mark was waiting in the driver's seat of their Honda SUV


Mark stood in the doorway of their bedroom, holding a faded green duffel bag. "Are we bringing the heavy winter coats? The weather app says it might drop to the forties at night up near the lake."

"Just the fleeces," Sarah said, folding a pair of jeans on the bed. "We’re only going to be at the cabin for two nights, and I don't want to overpack like we did last time."

Mark nodded, stuffing his favorite gray zip-up into the bag. "Fair enough. If we leave by eight tomorrow, we should miss the worst of the weekend traffic on I-95."

"Eight means we actually have to be in the car at eight, Mark, not just waking up," she teased, tossing him her toiletry bag to zip into the side pocket.

The next morning, their kitchen smelled of dark roast coffee and toasted bagels. Sarah stood by the island, scrolling through a podcast app on her phone while finishing her breakfast.

"Did you double-check the back door?" Mark asked, walking into the kitchen with his keys dangling from his index finger. He grabbed his travel mug from the counter.

"Locked, and I turned the thermostat down," Sarah confirmed. She picked up her own mug and grabbed her sunglasses. "Do you have the rental confirmation pulled up?"

"Starred in my inbox." Mark held the front door open for her.

The crisp morning air held the promise of a clear autumn weekend. They loaded the duffel bag into the trunk of their Honda CR-V. As Mark started the engine, Sarah plugged her phone into the console.

"True crime or comedy?" she asked, pulling up her queue.

"Comedy," Mark said, checking his mirrors and shifting into reverse. "Let's keep it light until we at least hit the highway."

With a shared smile, they backed out of the driveway and headed toward the interstate.


Mark stood in the hallway, holding a worn duffel bag and a canvas tote. "Did you pack the phone chargers, or should I grab the spares from the kitchen?"

Sarah emerged from the bedroom, a pair of sunglasses perched on her head. "I got them. But I didn’t pack your heavy jacket. The weather app says Cape May will stay in the upper sixties all weekend."

"Good call," Mark said, setting the bags by the front door. "I’ll just bring a hoodie." He walked into the kitchen to double-check the back door, giving the handle a firm tug.

They had been looking forward to this short weekend getaway for a month. It had been a long few weeks at work for both of them, and they had agreed on no strict itinerary—just two nights at a quiet bed-and-breakfast and a Saturday dinner reservation at a seafood place Sarah loved.

"Okay, the thermostat is set to sixty-five, and the coffee maker is unplugged," Sarah announced, walking down the hall. She paused at the door to eye their luggage. "Is that it? Just the two bags?"

"And a small cooler with some sparkling water and pretzels," Mark said, jingling the car keys. "I put it in the trunk already."

They stepped out into the crisp Friday afternoon. Mark loaded the bags into the back of their Subaru while Sarah locked the front door, jiggling the deadbolt twice out of habit. She slid into the passenger seat and pulled up the GPS on her phone.

"Two hours and forty minutes, assuming we don't hit too much traffic on the Parkway," she said, buckling her seatbelt.

Mark started the engine and backed out of the driveway. "Not bad. You want to pick the podcast, or should I?"

"Let's do that new history one," Sarah smiled, rolling her window down an inch. "I'm ready to hit the road."


Sarah zipped her canvas duffel bag and dragged it to the front hallway. "Mark, did you pack a heavier jacket?" she called toward the kitchen. "The weather app says it's going to drop into the low forties by the lake tonight."

Mark emerged holding a half-empty jar of salsa and a plastic Tupperware container. "I grabbed my heavy fleece," he said, tossing the salsa into the trash can. "Should we bring this leftover pasta, or is it just going to take up space in the cooler?"

"Leave it," Sarah decided, double-checking the side pocket of her bag for her sunglasses. "We said we were going to get burgers at that diner near the turnpike anyway. I don’t want to mess with reheating things the second we get there."

"Fair enough." Mark rinsed the container and set it in the sink. He grabbed his own worn backpack from the counter, slinging it over one shoulder. "You have the Airbnb door code?"

"Pinned in my messages," Sarah said, picking up her travel mug. "Alright, let's load up the Subaru."

The Saturday morning air was crisp as they walked out to the driveway of their Ohio subdivision. The autumn leaves were just starting to turn, making the quick weekend getaway to Lake Erie feel perfectly timed. Mark popped the trunk and expertly wedged the cooler between Sarah's duffel and his backpack, shutting the tailgate with a solid thud.

Sarah slid into the passenger seat and immediately plugged her phone into the dashboard to bring up the GPS map. "Two hours and fifteen minutes to the cabin," she announced.

Mark started the engine, adjusting his mirrors. "Did you lock the back patio door?"

"Yes. And I turned down the thermostat," she smiled, anticipating his next question.

"Perfect." Mark shifted the car into reverse. "First stop, the drive-thru. I need a large dark roast before I can deal with I-71 traffic."

"I'll buy," Sarah said, settling back as they rolled out of the driveway. "I'll queue up that podcast we didn't finish last week."


The kitchen island was a chaotic spread of canvas weekenders, a small cooler, and stray charging cables. Sarah zipped up her olive-green duffel and tossed a tangled cluster of wires on top of Mark’s pile.

"Did you pack the car charger?" she asked, grabbing her empty travel mug from the counter.

"Yeah, it’s already in the center console," Mark said, peering into the open cooler. "We have enough ice, but do we want to make sandwiches now, or just stop at that Wawa on the Turnpike?"

"Let's just stop," Sarah decided, checking the hallway thermostat before dialing it down to sixty-five degrees. "If we leave now, we beat the worst of the Philadelphia traffic, and we can eat when we actually get hungry."

"Good call." Mark snapped the cooler shut and hoisted it by the side handles. "Can you grab my jacket? I think I left it on the back of the couch."

Five minutes later, they were standing by the open trunk of their Subaru in the driveway. The crisp October morning air held the promise of a perfect autumn weekend in the Poconos. Mark arranged the bags, playing his usual game of luggage Tetris, while Sarah did a final sweep of the house, locking the deadbolt and pulling the front door snug.

She climbed into the passenger seat, plugging her phone into the very charger she had asked about. Mark slid behind the wheel, tapping the ignition button. The engine hummed to life, and the radio kicked on, already tuned to their favorite indie-folk playlist.

"Ready?" he asked, glancing at the rearview mirror as he shifted into reverse.

"Ready," Sarah smiled, adjusting her seat back just a fraction. "Just drive."


Sarah folded the last of her sweaters and pressed them into the canvas weekender bag. "Are you sure we don't need the heavier coats?" she called out to the hallway. "The weather app says it might drop into the low forties at night."

Mark appeared in the bedroom doorway, untangling a mess of phone charging cables. "Better safe than sorry. Just throw them in the backseat," he said, tossing the cables onto the bed. "Did you remember to pause the Sunday paper delivery?"

"Did it yesterday," Sarah said, zipping the bag shut.

Their weekend trip to a rented cabin in the Poconos had been on the calendar for two months, a brief but necessary escape from their relentless suburban work routines. By 7:00 a.m. the next morning, the crisp autumn air was biting at their ankles as they loaded the Subaru. Mark arranged the small cooler of groceries behind the passenger seat while Sarah locked the front door, double-checking the deadbolt out of habit.

Once settled in the front seats, Mark started the engine and turned up the heat. He tapped the dashboard screen, bringing up the navigation app. "Okay, it's showing two hours and forty-five minutes if we take the interstate, but there's a slow-down near Allentown."

Sarah unscrewed the lid of her travel mug, taking a cautious sip of her dark roast coffee. "Let's just take the scenic route. We’re in no rush to get there, and I'd rather look at the trees than stare at brake lights."

"Scenic route it is," Mark agreed, shifting the car into reverse. He glanced at her over the center console, a small smile breaking through his early-morning grogginess. "You got the road trip playlist ready?"

"Already queued up," Sarah smiled back, leaning against the headrest as they pulled out of the driveway and onto the quiet street.


Mark dumped the canvas duffel bag into the trunk of their Subaru, rearranging it to fit beside the small cooler. "Did you grab the hiking boots?" he called out, leaning against the bumper.

"I put them in the back seat," Sarah shouted from the front porch, pulling the front door shut and testing the knob twice. She walked down the driveway, her sunglasses pushed up into her hair, carefully balancing two insulated travel mugs. "I made coffee at home. Figured it would save us twenty minutes, and we wouldn't have to deal with the drive-thru line on the highway."

"You are a lifesaver," Mark said, accepting the silver mug. He took a cautious sip. "Perfect. Are we taking I-75 or the back roads?"

Sarah slid into the passenger seat and pulled up the GPS on her phone. "Maps says the interstate is already backed up near Marietta. Let's take the state route. It adds about fifteen minutes, but at least we'll actually be moving."

"State route it is," Mark agreed, climbing behind the wheel and starting the engine. He adjusted his mirrors while Sarah synced her phone to the car's Bluetooth.

"Did you remember to set the thermostat?" she asked, scrolling through her saved playlists.

"Set to seventy-four," he confirmed. He put the car in reverse and backed out of their suburban driveway, the familiar hum of the tires against the pavement signaling the official start of their weekend. They had only rented the small cabin in the Blue Ridge Mountains for two nights, but the break from their shared home office was long overdue.

"Okay," Sarah said, settling back against the headrest as an acoustic folk song began to play through the speakers. "Next stop, Asheville. Assuming we don't need gas?"

"We're at three-quarters of a tank," Mark said, merging onto the main road. "We're good to go."


Mark folded the last pair of jeans into his duffel bag while Sarah stood in the kitchen, staring into the open refrigerator.

"Are we taking the rest of this deli turkey?" she called out, holding up a plastic container. "It's going to go bad by Sunday night."

Mark walked in, tossing his sunglasses onto the counter. "Let's just toss it. I don't want to mess with packing the cooler for a two-hour drive to the cabin. We can grab sandwiches at that Wawa on Interstate 95."

"Fair enough," Sarah said, dumping the meat in the trash and dropping the container in the sink. She grabbed her fleece jacket from the back of the dining chair. "Did you set the thermostat?"

"Set to sixty-two," Mark confirmed. He grabbed both their bags, adjusting the heavy straps over his shoulder. "Water heater is on vacation mode, and I double-checked the back door."

They moved out into the crisp Friday evening air. Their suburban Maryland neighborhood was quiet, save for a neighbor's dog barking a few streets over. Mark popped the trunk of their Honda CR-V and loaded the bags, while Sarah slid into the passenger seat and immediately plugged her phone into the dashboard console.

"I have the podcast queued up," she said as Mark got behind the wheel and started the engine. "The true crime one you pretended not to like but actually do."

Mark laughed, pulling the seatbelt across his chest. "I said it was overly dramatic, not boring." He shifted the car into drive and pulled out of the driveway, glancing at the dashboard screen. "GPS says an hour and forty-five minutes if the beltway traffic holds. Ready?"

"More than ready," Sarah sighed, sinking back into her seat as they headed toward the highway, officially leaving the work week behind.


Mark zipped his canvas duffel bag and thumped it down onto the hallway runner. "Okay, that’s the last of the clothes," he called out. "Did you grab the cooler?"

In the kitchen, Sarah was ticking items off a mental list, her thumb hovering over her phone screen. "Cooler is already in the trunk," she said, walking into the hall with a reusable grocery tote slung over her shoulder. "But I almost forgot the coffee. The cabin has a drip machine, right?"

"Yeah, it said standard coffee maker on the rental listing," Mark replied. He took the bag of dark roast and the half-empty box of filters she handed him, stuffing them into the top of his duffel. He grabbed his keys from the ceramic bowl by the door. "Do


Mark stood by the open trunk of their Honda, shifting his canvas duffel bag to make room for the cooler. "Did you put the ice packs in, or should I?" he called out toward the open garage door.

Sarah emerged a moment later, balancing two steaming travel mugs and a bulging tote bag. "Ice packs are in. I also threw in those leftover grapes from the fridge so they wouldn't go bad. We'll want something to snack on once we hit I-95."

"Perfect." Mark slammed the trunk shut. It was only a three-day weekend at a rented cabin in the Shenandoah Valley, but somehow they always managed to pack like they were moving across the country.

Sarah handed him the silver mug. "Black, no sugar. Just the way you like it. Did you remember to check the thermostat?"

"Set to sixty-five." Mark took a sip, leaning against the car door. "And yes, the back door is locked, and the coffee maker is unplugged. I checked twice."

She smiled, the lingering tension of a long workweek finally beginning to melt from her shoulders. "Sorry. You know how I get."

"I know." He opened the driver’s side door. "I'll drive the first leg. You can find us a good playlist. But no true crime podcasts until we're at least out of the suburbs."

"Deal." Sarah climbed into the passenger seat and pulled down the visor to grab her sunglasses. "We should probably stop for gas before we get on the highway. The Wawa on Route 50?"

"Wawa it is," Mark agreed, starting the engine. As he backed out of the driveway, Sarah connected her phone to the Bluetooth. The GPS screen glowed on the dashboard, estimating their arrival at three hours. They were finally on their way.


The scent of dark roast coffee filled the kitchen as Sarah snapped her small suitcase shut. "Did you grab the phone chargers?" she called out, leaning over the island to double-check their shared digital itinerary.

Mark emerged from the hallway, a tangle of white cords in one hand and his faded duffel bag in the other. "Got them," he said, dropping the bag by the front door. "I also packed the umbrella. The forecast said it might drizzle when we get to Asheville on Sunday."

"Good call," Sarah said, handing him a travel mug. She took a sip from her own. "Are we taking the interstate, or do you want to take the scenic route through the mountains?"

Mark checked his phone, thumbing through a navigation app. "Interstate is faster by forty minutes, but traffic looks a little heavy near the junction. Let's stick to the highway for now, and if it backs up, we can detour."

"Works for me." Sarah walked around the living room, performing her usual pre-trip ritual: verifying the stove was off, adjusting the thermostat to save energy, and testing the lock on the back door. "Did you leave the key for Mrs. Gable?"

"On the porch under the planter," Mark said, jingling his car keys. "She knows to feed the cat twice a day. We’re all set."

They walked out into the crisp Saturday morning, their suburban street quiet except for the hum of a distant lawnmower. Mark popped the trunk of their Subaru, tossing the bags inside next to a small cooler packed with sparkling water and road snacks. Sarah slid into the passenger seat, immediately connecting her phone to the car's Bluetooth.

"I made a playlist," she announced as Mark climbed behind the wheel.

"As long as it's not all true-crime podcasts this time," he laughed, shifting the car into reverse and pulling out of the driveway.


Elena zipped her canvas duffel bag shut and carried it into the hallway. "Did you grab the phone chargers?" she called out, leaning over the banister.

"Got them," Mark yelled back from the kitchen. "I put them in the tote bag with the snacks. Do we want to leave now and grab drive-thru, or heat up the leftover pasta before we go?"

Elena walked down the stairs, considering. "Let's just hit the road. If we leave now, we can beat the worst of the northbound traffic on 95. We can stop at Panera or somewhere off the highway."

"Sounds good to me." Mark grabbed his jacket and handed Elena her travel mug, already filled with hot peppermint tea. They had been looking forward to this long weekend at the coast for a month, a much-needed break from their chaotic work schedules.

They walked out to the driveway. The crisp October air held the promise of autumn. Mark popped the trunk of their Subaru and tossed the bags inside while Elena did a final sweep of the house—making sure the thermostat was bumped down to sixty, the back door was bolted, and the coffee maker was unplugged.

Once she was satisfied, she locked the front door and climbed into the passenger seat. Mark was already scrolling through his phone, connecting it to the car's Bluetooth display.

"True crime podcast or the acoustic playlist?" he asked, looking over at her as he put the car in reverse.

"Playlist, definitely. I need to decompress," Elena sighed, settling back against the headrest.

As Mark backed out of the driveway and shifted into drive, Elena reached over and briefly squeezed his arm. The familiar suburban streets quickly gave way to the highway on-ramp. As they merged into the steady stream of Friday evening traffic, the heavy stress of the week finally began to fade.


The canvas duffel bag sat half-full on the kitchen island. Sarah tossed in a thick gray sweater and a pair of wool hiking socks.

"Are you sure we don't need the heavier winter jackets?" she asked, checking the weather app on her phone one last time. "It says it's going to dip into the low forties near the cabin tonight."

Mark looked up from the small plastic cooler he was filling by the sink. "I packed my heavy fleece," he said, handing her a couple of water bottles to slide into the side pockets of the bag. "If you think you'll be cold, grab your puffer coat. Better safe than freezing. Did you remember the coffee beans?"

"Got them," Sarah said, zipping the duffel. "And the hand grinder. I refuse to drink stale drip coffee on our only weekend away this month."

Mark chuckled, snapping the cooler shut. He hoisted it by the handles. "Alright, I'll take this and the bags out to the Subaru. You do the final sweep?"

"On it."

While Mark loaded the trunk, Sarah walked through the first floor of the house. She lowered the thermostat to sixty degrees, checked that the back patio door was deadbolted, and turned off the kitchen lights. It was only a three-hour drive up to the mountains, but leaving the house together always required this small, familiar ritual.

She stepped out into the crisp Friday afternoon and locked the front door behind her. Mark was already in the driver’s seat, plugging the cabin's address into the GPS. As Sarah climbed into the passenger side, she dropped her tote bag at her feet and let out a long, relieved exhale.

"Ready?" Mark asked, checking his mirrors and putting the car in reverse.

"Definitely," Sarah smiled, reaching over to turn on the radio. "Let's get out of here."


Sarah stood at the kitchen island, scrolling through the weather app on her phone while simultaneously checking items off a slightly crumpled Post-it note.

"It looks like it’s going to rain on Sunday morning," she called out toward the hallway. "Did you grab the blue umbrella?"

Mark appeared in the kitchen doorway, hoisting a canvas duffel bag over his shoulder. "I put the big golf umbrella in the trunk already. Figured that covers us both." He set the bag down by the door and grabbed his insulated travel mug from the drying rack. "Are we stopping at Dunkin' on the way out, or do you want me to brew a quick pot here?"

Sarah glanced at the microwave clock. It was just past seven on Saturday morning. "Let's hit the drive-thru. If we leave right now, we can beat the worst of the traffic on I-95."

"Drive-thru it is," Mark agreed. He walked over, kissed the top of her head, and picked up her smaller weekender bag. "I’ll load the rest of this. You grab the snacks and make sure the back door is locked?"

"Already on it." Sarah gathered the canvas tote filled with pretzels, apples, and trail mix. She walked through the living room, double-checked the deadbolt on the patio door, adjusted the thermostat down to sixty-two degrees, and finally turned off the interior lights.

Outside, the crisp autumn air smelled like damp leaves. Mark had the Honda CR-V already running, the trunk slammed shut. Sarah slid into the passenger seat and plugged her phone into the dashboard cable, pulling up their GPS route to the coastal rental.

"Two hours and forty minutes," she announced, clicking her seatbelt into place.

"Not bad at all," Mark said, shifting the car into drive. "Put on that podcast we started last week, and let's go get some coffee."


Mark zipped his duffel bag shut and hauled it into the hallway. "Did you grab the cooler?" he called toward the kitchen.

"Wiping it out now," Elena replied. "Should I pack the leftover turkey for sandwiches, or are we just going to stop at that diner near the interstate?"

Mark leaned against the doorframe, checking his phone for traffic on I-95. "Let's stop at the diner. We can just use the cooler for the drinks and that sharp cheddar we bought."

"Sounds good." Elena emerged from the kitchen carrying the small blue cooler, a canvas tote bag slung over her shoulder. She handed him the cooler. "I put the pretzels and the apples in the tote. Did you remember the phone chargers?"

"Got them. And the rain jackets, just in case the weather turns." Mark grabbed the cooler by the handle and picked up his keys from the console table.

They walked out to the driveway. The crisp Saturday morning air felt like a much-needed relief after a long week of spreadsheets and endless emails. Mark popped the trunk of their Honda CR-V, arranging the bags against the back seats so nothing would slide around on the winding mountain roads. Elena slid into the passenger seat and immediately began adjusting the climate control, plugging her phone in to pull up the map on the dashboard screen.

"ETA to the cabin is two hours and fifteen minutes," she announced as Mark climbed into the driver’s seat and shut his door.

"Not bad," he said, putting the car in reverse. "Did you lock the back patio door?"

Elena paused, her finger hovering over the touchscreen. "Yes. Wait. Did I? I'm pretty sure I did."

Mark shifted back into park with a quiet sigh and a small, knowing smile. "I'll go check."

A minute later, he returned, giving her a thumbs-up. As they pulled out of their subdivision, Elena queued up their favorite acoustic playlist, the familiar music filling the car as the weekend finally began.


Mark tossed the canvas duffel bag into the trunk of the Honda CR-V, shifting a case of seltzer to make it fit. "Did you grab the phone chargers?" he called out toward the open front door.

Sarah emerged a moment later, locking the deadbolt behind her. She had her favorite travel mug in one hand and a tangle of white cords in the other. "Got them. I also grabbed the extra sweater you left on the armchair. It's supposed to be breezy by the water tonight."

"Good call," Mark said, shutting the trunk with a solid thud. "You want to drive first, or should I?"

"I'll drive," Sarah said, walking around to the driver's side. "But we need to stop for coffee. We can hit the Wawa on Route 47."

Mark slid into the passenger seat and adjusted the air conditioning vent. "Sounds like a plan. Did we decide if we're taking the toll road or the back way down to Cape May?"

"GPS says the Expressway is only ten minutes faster right now, but there's a backup near the bridge," Sarah noted, pressing the ignition. The dashboard lit up, and soft indie folk music resumed playing from her phone's Bluetooth. "Let's stick to the back roads. It’s a prettier drive anyway, and less stressful."

"Works for me," Mark agreed, pulling up the reservation email on his phone just to double-check the details. "We can get to the bed and breakfast by two, drop our bags, and still have plenty of time to walk the promenade before dinner."

Sarah smiled, easing the SUV out of their driveway and onto the quiet suburban street. "Perfect. I am so ready for two days of doing absolutely nothing."


Mark stared at the open weather app on his phone, leaning against the kitchen counter. "It says it might drop to forty degrees in the Berkshires tomorrow night. Did you pack your heavy fleece?"

Sarah walked into the kitchen carrying a bulging canvas tote bag and two travel mugs. "I packed the thick green sweater. That should be enough if we're just sitting around the fire pit." She set the empty mugs down next to the coffee maker. "Did you remember to pack the dog's stuff? My mom's going to be here in ten minutes to pick up Buster."

"Dog food, his favorite squeaky toy, and the emergency vet number are all in a paper bag by the front door," Mark said, pocketing his phone.

They were leaving for a three-day weekend at a rented cabin in western Massachusetts, a much-needed escape from their noisy Boston apartment.

Sarah poured the coffee and handed him a steaming travel mug. "Perfect. I think we’re actually on schedule for once. I really want to beat the Friday afternoon I-90 traffic."

Ten minutes later, Buster was happily handed off to Sarah's mother, and Mark was in the driveway wedging a small cooler into the trunk of their Honda Civic.

"Does the cooler really need to go directly behind my seat?" Sarah asked, adjusting her sunglasses as she opened the passenger door.

"It's the only way the suitcase fits flat," Mark replied, shutting the trunk with a solid thud. "Unless you want the grocery bag full of snacks in your lap the whole way."

"Cooler behind the seat is fine," she conceded, climbing in.

Mark slid into the driver's seat, started the engine, and plugged his phone into the dashboard. "True crime podcast or the indie playlist?"

"Playlist first," Sarah said, clicking her seatbelt into place. "We can do murder once we hit the highway."

Mark smiled, shifted the car into drive, and pulled out onto the quiet street.


Sarah yanked the zipper of the canvas duffel bag closed, double-checking her mental list. Two nights in the Catskills didn’t require much, but she knew how quickly the mountain air turned crisp in October.

"Did you grab the cooler?" she called down the hallway, lugging the bag toward the living room.

Mark appeared from the kitchen, a half-empty box of granola bars in one hand and two insulated travel mugs in the other. "Sitting by the front door. I also made coffee so we don't have to stop at the drive-thru on the way out of town."

"You're my hero," Sarah said, accepting the warm mug. "Did you remember to turn down the thermostat?"

"Set to sixty-two," Mark confirmed. He set the snacks on the console table and patted the pockets of his jeans. "Keys, wallet, phone. Check. Do we need to bring the umbrella?"

Sarah glanced out the front window at the overcast autumn sky. "Better safe than sorry. Toss it in the back."

They worked in an easy, practiced rhythm, a quiet routine born from five years of marriage. Mark carried the heavier cooler and Sarah’s duffel out to their Subaru, while Sarah did a final sweep of the house—locking the back patio door, checking the deadbolt, and making absolutely sure the coffee maker was unplugged.

Outside, their suburban Ohio neighborhood was quiet, the afternoon air already smelling faintly of woodsmoke and fallen leaves. Mark popped the trunk shut and climbed into the driver's seat.

"GPS says two and a half hours if we take the interstate," Mark said as Sarah settled into the passenger seat and pulled her seatbelt across her chest.

"Let's take the scenic route," she suggested, taking a sip of her coffee. "We're in no rush."

Mark smiled, shifting the car into drive. "Scenic route it is."