Brown Bag #1

   The white balls of cotton flowed out of the clear plastic bag as they were dumped onto the counter. I picked one up and dipped it into my foundation, it was soft on my finger tips. It might seem odd, but I hated cotton balls with a burning passion. They might be soft and beautiful in an awkward way, but no matter what, they always reminded me of hostpitals. I don't know why, maybe because of how clean and bright they are, or maybe because they use them to put cold stuff on your arm right before you get a needle. Who knows. What ever reason it might be, I hate cotton balls. Always have, always will.