I was holding the black trash bag with my hurt hand while I picked up the trash from last night's party. There were brown glass bottles, silver and gold cans that were crushed into pieces with sharp edges, more cans of all sorts of colors were still on top of tables or turned over on their sides and the stuff inside had left a sticky drippy trail leading to the floor. Bits of food were bitten and left behind or smashed into pieces as flat as a pancake. Some of the sandwiches had been crushed into balls and were now mushy piles of ingredients sitting in a cup with a foul, vinegary smell. I stood up and peeled a strip of pizza off of a glass picture frame. Everything smelled gross. There was so much food and I didn't want to eat any of it. Rebecca walked over to me with the dustpan. I held t
