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Her shoes were tossed by the floor,
but collected on her way out.

Her coat, usually left on a chair or
by the bed, if she was in a hurry.

Her books, (she always had an armful)
were either stacked on a table, or left beside her backpack.

She never left without leaving something:
a trail of her self.

Her number (written on half an envelope)
still pressed onto the frigerator by magnet.

Where I first placed it.
Years ago.