Impulse

1. Struggle

senirasushipping — because a little daydreaming never hurt anyone

***

Okay. I can handle this. All I have to do is focus.

It's only a suitcase. One tiny little suitcase. At least, that's what I tell myself as I summon every last ounce of my strength just to lift it off the ground. My arms are aching already.

Unbelievable. I mean, how much can a few clothes weigh?

It's not even like I brought that much stuff. One outfit for every day of the retreat. That's all.

And a pair of shoes to go with each of them. And a purse to go with each pair of shoes. Just the bare essentials. Nothing more.

Plus a whole pile of my favorite skirts. I had more than enough extra space, so I figured, why not? Which meant I had to pack more tops, because there's no point in having all those skirts if I have nothing to wear them with, is there?

Then I remembered the hotel pool, so I threw in a bikini or two. Or six, to be exact. And that gorgeous turquoise beach towel I bought at the Veilstone Department Store and never got a chance to use.

When are we going to have that beach party, anyway? I keep telling Volkner to make it happen—he's the one with the house on the beach—and so far all he's done is shrug those perfectly sculpted shoulders of his and tell me maybe later. When he's not so busy with the gym. He's been "busy with the gym" for over a year now.

Speaking of shoulders, I think I might have just sprained one. This suitcase is going to be the death of me.

No, seriously. It must weigh about a thousand pounds. I knew I should've bought the more practical one with the wheels. But this one had the cutest pattern—how could I resist?

It was no question, really. And now I'm faced with the impossible task of somehow transporting my stylish new bag through the largest hotel lobby I've ever seen.

I stop for a minute and take in my surroundings. It's got sleek marble columns. Sparkling crystal chandeliers. And that guy over there with the bodyguard—isn't he a famous actor? I swear I've seen him in something.

Really, this place is amazing. I've never been anywhere like it. It's classic but modern. Elegant but understated. And, I lament to myself as I abandon the idea of actually carrying my suitcase and resort to dragging it along the immaculate white tiles, way too big for its own good.

In a perfect world, I'd reach into the front pocket where my Poké Balls are packed and ask my Mamoswine to give me a hand. That's what I was planning on. But it turns out our hotel isn't exactly Pokémon-friendly. The sign's right there for everyone to see: No Pokémon Permitted in Building.

Crazy, isn't it? I mean, who doesn't like having Pokémon around? But I can understand the logic behind their rules. It'd be tough to maintain a five-star hotel with Tauros charging down the hallways and Trubbish mucking up the furniture.

So here I am, practically on the verge of collapse, without a single Pokémon to help me. It's not exactly how I envisioned the first moments of our retreat.

My best friend Maylene seems to think this is funny. "Hey, Candice," she teases me. "You think you brought enough clothes?"

Maylene's suitcase isn't even one-third the size of mine. In fact, most of the other leaders have nothing but overnight bags. If I'm being honest, I look a bit ridiculous in comparison. But how was I supposed to know they'd all be such light packers? My philosophy is, if you can manage to cram half your wardrobe into your luggage, you might as well go for it. Then you've got options. You never know what you'll feel like wearing, after all.