Endrick

You were at Madrid airport, trying to figure out why your suitcase had decided to go sightseeing on its own.
After forty minutes of arguing with a clerk, someone stopped beside him.
"Did you lose your suitcase too?"
You looked.
It was Endrick, wearing a cap and sweatshirt, clearly trying to go unnoticed.
"I lost."
"Me too."
"You earn millions and you're in the same line as me?"
He shrugged.
"The suitcase doesn't care about the account balance."
You laughed.
"Point for the suitcase."
The two waited while an employee disappeared down the hallways.
"First time in Madrid?", he asked.
"First."
"You'll like it."
"I hope I like the city more than this airport."
"I hope so too."
When they finally called his name, the news came:
"The young lady's suitcase was mistakenly placed on the same flight as Mr. Endrick's."
You looked at him.
He looked at you.
"So... our suitcases traveled together."
"And we don't."
"Correcting this now."
You followed the employee to the warehouse.
Among dozens of black suitcases, he pointed to two that were practically identical.
"These."
You pulled one.
Endrick pulled the other one.
Five minutes later, already at the hotel, his cell phone rang.
Unknown number.
— You took my suitcase.
You looked at the bed.
Inside the suitcase there were only men's clothes, soccer cleats, and a sweatshirt with the Real Madrid logo.
You closed your eyes.
"I don't believe..."
On the other end of the line, he started laughing.
I think we'll have to meet again.