Cut from "I am having so much fun here without you"

The guest room in our house, like many guest rooms in other houses I suspect, is hardly used by guests. On rainy days, Camille likes to play with the random assembly of knick knacks we keep in a trunk at the foot of the bed: unorganized photographs in envelopes; two Polaroid cameras; an awful blanket that Inés gifted us with after a trip to Peru when she was into everything yak; a poncho from that same trip that Anne wore once to make her mother happy and was rewarded for her efforts with an angry neck rash; a small army of stuffed animals that Camille no longer plays with; and three pairs of worn-out New Balance sneakers that I can’t bear to throw out.