NOLA Steph

Plates of Snow

I sat on the floor, next to the bed and in front of the nightstand staring at the off-white oval plate in front of me. My first thought had been - what a slob. I had been cleaning out my husband’s nightstand so that our 9-year- old son could use it. He wouldn’t need it anymore, thinking about my estranged husbands’ “new” apartment down the street. It was one of those that looked okay on the outside as you drive by at 35 mph but if you look just a little closer you see the rust on the rails, yellowness of the blinds and the baby roach indicating infestation in the corner. In the process I found the plate. My brain, practiced in ignoring the obvious, thought it might be the remnant of a late night snack. And then I saw the razor. And the straw.