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Ngillies
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« on: June 15, 2017, 09:46:59 AM »

From the bottom of my bottomless purse came a clinging, somewhere deep in the abyss of lost pens and cookie crumbs, like the rattle of the homeless perched on the steps of the subway, strengthening nothing but their wrist with every clank of their discarded Starbucks cup. With every hurried cash transaction, the leftovers shoved into my hand, a receipt as a plate, I'd funnel it down, drop it into the opening my black leather bag, edges frayed yet smooth. It would descend through madness, a complex mechanical maze like those you see in a science museum demonstrating physics with a heavy lead marble. Each penny, dime, nickel and quarter would take it's own unique path, down through empty candy wrappers, receipts from bodega purchases I shouldn't have made, lotion bottles, notebooks, extra contact lens for the exceptionally humid days where my contact were prone to dry up. They'd land upon crumbs of chips, smashing each piece down further and further, like the finest sand, silky between your fingertips. There they would lay, their worth forgotten until laundry day came. Bearing the brunt of every other piece of my life that would somehow make it's way into the never ending bag.
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