That afternoon, when she had to part from Zissi, Malkie, and Motti, her pep-talk blew up in her face

Those vacuum storage bags were an excellent, excellent idea. Her sister Devoiry had recommended them, and Pessie was able to pack for this trip so much more efficiently and fit so much more in her suitcases. An excellent idea, except…

Except that her luggage was overweight.

“But—” Pessie stammered, blinking at the number on the scale at the check-in counter.

The cavernous airport hall was cold, voices swirling around her. People stood behind her in line, a little boy swung from a stanchion, pulling the retractable belt, until his mother grabbed him off and rebuked him.

Pessie stared down at the suitcases. They weren’t bulging, thanks to Devoiry’s bags, but also thanks to those bags, Pessie had compressed too much weight into each of the two suitcases. What was she supposed to do now?

How could I have missed this? How did I forget to weigh my luggage at home?

Her legs felt weak. This couldn’t be. She did not have the emotional energy to deal with overweight luggage now.

Calm down, these things happen every day. Nobody’s hurt or in danger. It’s just a little hiccup, everything will be all right, you’ll get through this.

Easy for her brain to talk.

Her stomach — empty, come to think of it; she’d been too nervous to eat — knotted. She’d been pep-talking herself for the past five days, from the day Yochi had flown off to Zambia to prepare for his guests’ arrival.

She didn’t like this reality, but if it was destined to happen, she would handle it gracefully and maturely. She would take each day as it came, she would focus on the moment and remain calm and upbeat. She would march forward, she would.

But that afternoon, when she had to part from Zissi, Malkie, and Motti, her pep-talk blew up in her face.