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
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