“I had a good day,” Frank said. What does that mean? I wondered. What did you really do? Were you even at work? Furthermore, who cares? “That’s nice,” I said back. “How was your day?” he asked. How in the hell do you think it was? I railed silently. After all you’ve done to me, how do you expect me to have any day? I flashed him daggers, forced a smile, and said, “My day was okay. Thanks for asking.”
Always hiding/protecting one's self.
