Lipstick. The sheer everyday banality of that stung. This must have been the lady’s favorite shade. She’d kept it close to wear through the voyage and so she could look good when they docked. And while digging through the luggage on her last day on earth, she’d picked it up and then discarded it again. The cap was off. Maybe even in the stress and helplessness of those last hours, she’d applied a final coat, clinging to the routines that felt familiar enough to be safe.
