DisposophobiaDisposophobiaDisposophobia by Tyrison
She had always kept everything. Ticket stubs, receipts, the torn-off edges of notebook paper. Any doodles or scribbled ideas, and any note afforded her by a friend were kept and saved. Not everything received the honor, but particular things from specific events did. She wanted to keep track of each and every thing she had ever done. She did so, on a corkboard encircling her room from floor to ceiling; each day had its spot, and one could trace her life along the wall with the zigzagging strings of yarn that connected each day.
She didn't often invite others into her room, for fear they might displace something, either by accident or purpose. A fear of forgetting had encircled her heart, and she did this as her blatant struggle to hold on to everything. Thus, apart from the walls, her room was clean and ordered. Her bookshelf was neatly ordered (alphabetically, of course) and each bauble sat proudly in its place. Her c