She entered the room with purpose, a garbage bag in her hand. Working quickly, she gathered each one from its resting place, tossing them on the bed as she went. When they were all assembled, she started.
The first few went in the bag quickly. The memory of their sting and that brief moment of panic whenever they appeared making it easy to discard of them.
Others were more difficult as they were awash with memories. The first one she bought him. One they had bought together. Another that had brought laughter. One that had been bought for him as a gift.
When the final one went into the bag, she took one last look around the room. Only one was missing and that couldn't be helped because it wasn't there to add to her collection. Then she took a deep breath and walked from the room, bag in hand.
Yes, I did. No, he doesn't know. At least I don't think he does. No, I'm not ready to talk about why yet.