“What is this?” I ask, staring down at the contents of the drawer. It’s like a junk drawer. Small toys, a set of keys, a guitar pic, vape pens, an unopened tampon, bracelets. I sit back and look at Cassie. “Whose stuff is this?” “It’s mine.” She tries to push past me, to close the drawer, but I hold up a hand and keep my position.
