Her shoes were tossed by the floor,
but collected on her way out.
Her coat, usually left on a chair or
by the bed, if she was in a hurry.
Her books, (she always had an armful)
were either stacked on a table, or left beside her backpack.
She never left without leaving something:
a trail of her self.
Her number (written on half an envelope)
still pressed onto the frigerator by magnet.
Where I first placed it.
Years ago.