Purell

They both kept a bottle in their bathrooms. His large, hers portable. His prominent, hers covert. His half-empty, hers rarely touched. His medicinal, hers in case of emergency. His name-brand, hers from the discount bin. His with a pump, hers with a childproof cap. His reserved for personal use, hers available to her three roommates who seemed to need it more than her. His part of an absent routine, hers always stinging.