trash

TRASH

Diane phoned in Jimmy to go to her room and find her exam slip. She said look for it in her bin. She might had thrown it.
Jimmy went to her room and found it disarrayed. Her medical books scattered everywhere, white pants spread on the floor and medicine foils glistened over her bed.

Under her study table, he reached for a red plastic bin. The scent of rotting fruits invaded his senses. He dug his hand into her trash and felt strands of her hair entwined with her dusts. He saw Cookie’s naughty fur caught sticking with his smelly can of tuna. More medicine foils.

Jimmy dug dipper and found a white sando bag. He untied it and grossed out as he discovered a puddle of puke. Her sickness must have worsened. Maybe from her finals, he thought. He re-tied the bag and put it beside the bin.

Among her other trash – an empty bottle of energy drink, empty bookstore cellophanes, empty bottles of cough syrup, more foils of medicines, cut-out pictures from magazines, strips of colored papers, rolls of discarded Scotch tape, an empty canister of film, curled up cigarette butts, burnt matchsticks, biscuit wrappers, paper bags with bread crumbs, another empty can of tuna, an empty can of corned beef, an empty can of cola, mango peels, banana peels, their oily condom still smelling of orange, watermelon seeds, empty sachets of shampoos, a plastic seal from an alcohol bottle, four triple A batteries, a three-month old pack of sanitary napkin, and lots and lots of tissue, tissues with lipstick, tissues with mascara and tissues with dry snots – he found what he’s looking for. Diane had used her exam slip to wrap a strip of plastic.

Cookie entered the room, purring and just in time to see Jimmy threw up in the bin. Cookie licked Jimmy’s morsel near the two blue lines in Diane’s strip of pregnancy kit.