Avery sat in the middle of her room, piles of clothes, shoes and art supplies surrounding her and the empty suitcase that was in front of her. She was sorting through each pile, trying to work out exactly what she could take and what she needed.
She glanced over at the guitar in the corner of her room and tsked slightly, clicking her tongue against her teeth. She wanted to bring it, but it was better to pack lightly and her sketch pads were going to take up enough room as it was.
She pushed the soft top of her suitcase down and lay across it trying to zip it up over all of the things she had packed, then found it wouldn't close, and she had forgotten toiletries.
"I hate packing," she muttered.