“Fine,” I say. “Fine?” she asks, thinking she’s won. I move back into my room while she hops down from the mattress. I feel her eyes watching me walk into my attached bathroom. I reach into one of the drawers, grab a pair of scissors, and walk past her, headed right for her room. “What are you doing?” she asks. I remain silent, walking past Sherman, who now has a picture of a cat set up next to him. What the hell is that about? I’ll ask questions later. I have a mission to accomplish at the moment.
