Soiled

Her room, one of many units in an off-campus residence, had an en suite bathroom. Putting on my underwear, not minding the mingled stink on my privates, I went to complete the errand given to me. Under the sink were her neatly stacked extras—two toothbrushes, an unopened twenty-four pack of toilet rolls, and no Kleenexes, on brand or off. “You’ll have to use a roll.”

“Don’t open the new pack,” she implored. “I put one in the drawer on the right.”

I opened the drawer, and was speechless at the sheer size of the daddy long legs walking around inside.