Israel, Africa, Afghanistan...
Carmex, mascara, The Catcher in the Rye.
Sitting cross-legged on her bed, chipped black painted toenails glittering in the dim light of her desk lamp, Allison finished dumping out her bag.
A roll of nickels; better fitted to her fist than the quarters she’d once carried. Thunk.
Tossing things into piles based on their importance didn’t seem to be helping.
Another tampon.
The sound of plastic crinkled gently as she flicked through the pile with one hand and tallied on the other. Twenty four.
Five socks, three pairs of cotton undies, one used.
Reflexively looking down, she hid her silent laughter behind her hair.
Two items a day. She’d promised herself she’d take out two items a day. Some days, this was easier than others.
Wadding the wrinkled panties with the lone sock, she rifled them at the closet door and began refilling her bag.