When the carton was empty she held it upside down in case any was stuck in the creases, shook again. She scrunched it in her fist and threw it into the sink. Next came the sugar.
The sugar was larger and stuck a little to her hand. She poured some, hurled some. Her bare feet were crunching on the granules. She added coffee to the mix, brown powder contrast. Cereal, rice, pasta, heaped on the floor. Milk, cool on her feet. Juice, pickles, eggs. The jagged eggshells hurt. She kicked through, not smiling. A drop of blood pinking the white milk.
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