I took my aluminum tray to a corner table away from the main aisle.

Two squads of mechanics sat close by, arguing loudly about the baseball standings over their food.

I set down my tray and put the brown cardboard box on the table.

Its corners were dented and scuffed from the long cargo flight from Dover to Al Asad.

I took out my pocketknife and sliced through the heavy packing tape.

The top flaps sprang open, letting out the faint, familiar smell of our laundry detergent.

A layer of white tissue paper lay over everything.