He put the last item into the cardboard box. It was a water bottle, covered almost entirely in stickers from tip to toe. The plastic that was still visable was scratched, any original lettering on it long faded. Stickers of outdoors brands, breweries, national parks, a short timeline of things that had once sparked a joyful memory in his brothers mind. The Yosemite sticker front and center, bringing back vivid memories of the two of them running through the valley, surrounded by those imposing granite faces. He had always said he was going to climb them one day, scale them like one of his many rock climbing heros.

Running his fingers over it, the smooth bottle made bumpy by stickers papered on it, his hands slowly rolling the bottle over, more stickers, more memories. The grief hit him suddenly in that moment, like a burst dam. The collection of memories, adoring that bottle having been the straw that broke him, as he dropped the box down onto the counter, slumping to the floor, tears flowing even more freely now. His brother was gone he would never get the chance to add anymore stickers. He managed to compose himself, dragging himself to stand, slowly reaching in and grabbing the water bottle, grasping it tightly in his hand and then walking out. Leaving everything else behind.