She started in the living area. Dusting and wiping down the surfaces. She fluffed the couch pillows and vacuumed the spare carpet. Then she moved to the eating area and kitchen. Wiping down the table and countertops. Putting the few dishes in the dishwasher and setting that running. Rinsing the sink. Dusting the blinds and wiping out the fridge. Mopping the floor. She made good time.
She took a break before tackling the bedroom, resting with her back against the kitchen bar. She thought she’d feel more. Thought this would be harder.
She pulled the sheets from the bed with one tug and stuffed them into a garbage bag. She shimmied around the mattress, which was nearly the size of the whole room, and dumped the contents of his nightstand drawers without examining them. She shimmied around to the other side of the bed and did the same with those drawers. Then she hit the bathroom. Everything went into the trash. She’d come back and give it a scrub after she finished with the bedroom.
Just the closet left. There was no other furniture. Justine opened the door and was overwhelmed with a powerful scent. It was a mixture of cologne, sweat, mothballs, and something else. Something both familiar and distantly dangerous. Strange man.
Justine inhaled deeply. She shook herself out of her reverie and retrieved a fresh garbage bag. Many of the shirts and trousers looked old and out of fashion, but she couldn’t in good conscience throw clothes away when so many went without. She passed a homeless shelter every day on her way to work,. She’d drop his things off there.
As she came back into the bedroom, she once again noticed the smell. His smell. It had to be. She didn’t know it, but it meant something to her all the same, and she realized she was crying. Slow tears leaked down her cheeks.
Justine wiped her cheeks with the sleeve of one of his shirts. She had been sitting on the bare mattress, clutching his things and crying for the past half hour. No chance of leaving before dark now. She stuffed the last of the clothes into the garbage bag on top of the shoes and tied it off.
She was about to close the closet door when she remembered the top shelf. She was shorter than most men, who would find that shelf an easy reach. Now that she looked up there she was sure she saw the edge of a box when she stood back and on her tiptoes. She dragged a chair from the eating area into the bedroom and pulled down a big and surprisingly heavy box
There was no name or writing. It was folded shut in such a way that the contents weren’t visible without opening it. It was dusty. No telling how long it had been up there. A long time.
Justine opened the box
litewings.ink 