Fiction

The Backpack

What can a man who meets you at the station and offers to carry your backpack mean to a woman travelling the world alone? I was scared, like anyone who has no sense of direction. The journey was a series of stops and starts. Whether to use the Eurail pass or post it back home and ask the kids to get me a refund. Giovanni appeared one European winter, thick padded jacket, woollen beanie, scarf and gloves, tall and imposing, I’ll carry your bag. I was small, the backpack the length of my spine, the zip-off bag on one shoulder,…

Subscribe to get access to all online articles