She rested her thin hands beside her keyboard and proofread the email to her landlord. She was adamant about getting the most from her lease and, though wealthy, insisted on knowing the price of everything. Milk is almost five dollars and gas is almost milk. Littered around her bedroom were shoeboxes of handmade jewelry, pearls, and war correspondence, each as fragile as a land mine. Loose soil footsteps, shrapnel, and a Sofield soldier torn in two.