A backpack, a bra, empty shoes, a scratching post, and dirty clothes. Knotty carpets swell under my ankles, sweat collects under my arms, my toes wriggle on my cross-legged thighs, a small breeze brushes across my chin. The clacking of bugs, the whisper of cars, the continuous shout of the fan. Faintly, there are ocean smells and I have to change the new litterbox. I am alive.