the kit, item by item
From the purse she removes the plastic Pepsi container, a box of wooden matches kept dry in a resealable baggie, two little thick glycine bags each holding four grams of pharmaceutical-grade cocaine, a single-edge razor blade (increasingly tough to find), a little black Kodachrome canister whose gray lid she pops and discards to reveal baking soda sifted fine as talc, the empty glass cigar tube, a folded square of Reynolds Wrap foil the size of a playing card, and an amputated length of the bottom of a quality wire coat hanger.
Context
The most exact freebase procedural in the book, the kit unpacked and named piece by piece: the pop bottle, the dry matches, the glycine grams, the razor, the sifted soda in a film canister, the cigar tube, the foil, the hanger-wire prod. The precision is the point — the reverent inventory of a practiced ritual, every improvised object with its exact function, the craft of the thing rendered with the care a jeweler gives his tools.