She reached in
to the second drawer down,
the one beneath her socks,
the one that held everything:
Nyquil, allergy pills,
a bag of spare toothbrushes,
and in her hand she offered a green one to me,
led me down the hallway,
showed me
the toothpaste behind the bathroom mirror,
the shelf
above the toilet,
the place to leave it
in case I needed it again.