When I was in primary school, I would often use a tissue paper to blow my nose, then tuck it in my pocket thinking I might use it again later. The chances were, however, I almost never did and forgot about the tissue paper altogether.
One weekend morning, I was having breakfast when I heard a shout from the laundry room.
“Somebody did it again!” My mother came out with a bundle of wet clothes sprinkled with white tissue paper pieces. “I told everybody to empty their pocket before they put their clothes in the washing machine. It’s so hard to get these pieces off once they scatter everywhere like this.”
“That might have been me,” I mumbled as I chewed on my food. “I might have left some tissue paper in my pocket.”
“Might have?” My mother’s voice rose as did her brows. “You did, didn’t you? Please make sure to empty your pocket before putting it in the machine. I don’t want to see this happening again.”
Pointing at the white pieces plastered all over the wet clothes one last time, my mother shuffled back to the laundry room.