A cheap black choker.

Kathleen nudged several objects aside to pull out a slender black choker. It was made of some cheap, stretchy plastic material and had the vague appearance of lace, with layers of looped strands forming the whole circumference of the item. It was a cheap, tacky sort of thing people hadn't worn in ages, but it reminded the woman of when she was younger. She used to wear something just like it in school.

Staring at the thin black band, Kathleen felt a longing sort of nostalgia for her youth, and tears welled up in her eyes. She loved her daughters deeply; they were the best thing to ever happen to her. But she couldn't help but feel that Richard had stolen her life. Had he ever really cared about her? A tear rolled down her cheek and she scrubbed it away, frustrated that even still he seemed to dominate her thoughts and feelings.

'Fuck Richard', she thought.

Her ex-husband had always been particular about the way Kathleen dressed and presented herself. Like she was some kind of extension of him and his public image. She'd accepted his reasoning while they were together but with the abrupt divorce fresh in her mind, She suddenly felt she didn't know who she was anymore. Without him to mold her into whatever he wanted her to be. She looked at the slightly trashy black choker in her hand. Richard would never have approved of it.

That was enough of a reason for Kathleen. She was taking her life back, starting with this stupid black choker style she hadn't worn since she was was a girl. No longer really caring where the mysterious purse came from, or whose stuff she was putting on, Kathleen lifted it and pulled it down over her head, sweeping her hair out of the way and adjusting it to a comfortable position. It stretched easily and shrank back to fit snugly around her throat within a matter of seconds.

She reached for the rear-view mirror, pulling it down so she could see herself properly and beamed with pride. She felt good. Really good. The choker made her look younger, somehow. It was probably just her projecting how she felt, but she smiled and returned the rear-view mirror to its proper position and tossed the purse into the back seat. She'd worry about whose it was and where her own had gone later.

An anxious sort of energy filled Kathleen, like she needed to get moving and find something fun to do. Sitting here in the middle of nowhere was boring. She didn't even care that she had no GPS. She had a lot of gas in the tank, she'd just drive until she figured something out.

Spurred on by a youthful enthusiasm she hadn't felt in ages, she pulled the car around and drove back the way she had come. She'd find her way back, how hard could it be? Man, she could kill for some French fries. Maybe she'd stop by the mall on her way home. She turned on the radio and tuned it to a local pop station, pressing the gas pedal all the way to the floor.