Fantastic Shits and Where to Find Them

You leave the suitcase, forcing yourself to believe that it's a wise decision.
"Shit that never fades"? Engraved in sharp capital letters? Sounds way too 'off' for your liking.
And hey, even if you wanted to open it, it's locked.

A familiar voice screams out your name. You drop the suitcase and look back at the platform, catching sight of an old friend, running towards you, tugging along a suitcase whilst holding onto his hat. You discretely nudge the suitcase underneath the seat, out of sight.
At least you think.
He reaches you and, through heavy breaths, manages to say
"isn't that your suitcase?"

You:

You have 1 choice:

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