Dot Hightower writes:
"I've been racking my brains. I know I had a lunchbox, or rather a series of them, but I can't remember what was on the outside of any of them. There were lunchboxes with cowboys on them; I hated cowboys and wouldn't be seen with one. But I can't recall what I had on mine. "Inside, that I can remember. A thermos (with a clip to hold it in place) with milk inside. Either an egg-salad sandwich whose fragrance still perfumes the cloakrooms of my mind, or a bologna sandwich whose balloon bread I carefully squashed to cardboard thinness before eating it. Cookies. A red apple with dry, pulpy flesh and a bitter skin."