Bonnie took good care of her things because she had moved to the city to become someone different, neat and put together. Someone with boundaries. No more running barefoot through the paddocks of her parents’ farm in Mullumbimby with mud up to her knees or driving home drunk, packed into the back of someone else’s car, sitting on some boy’s lap, rushing past the highway memorials left behind after other accidents—white crosses and fake flowers slick with rain, stuffed animals soaked through and heavy with water.
