“If I go and get a little help,” I said, “will you get out of my seat and let me continue?” “Am I in your seat?” Gran-Gran said. “I’m sorry, dear. I’m an old blind woman, and I get disoriented sometimes.” “Gran-Gran, you’re the most stubborn little ball of fire I know. Don’t give me lines like that.” She chuckled. “Just trying to let you know how others feel when dealing with you, dear. It’s the least I can do, considering the genes I handed you. Go, do as you—so wisely—suggested. I’ll be gone when you return.”
