A notebook and a pencil. Toothbrush. A change of underwear. And an old photograph of her mother. All slung defiantly over her shoulder and she stepped out into the world projecting a fabricated aura of confidence. She was leaving this time.
The streets were beginning to fill and soon the market would be a surging river of humanity within which she could become absorbed and blissfully disorientated. She had money enough for bread, cheese and fruit.
And then the river would take its course.