I try to get her attention while she cooks herself dinner, opening and closing the cabinets while she cooks. Instead of acknowledging me, she grabs her headphones and puts them on. It’s infuriating. I’m tired of the cold shoulder treatment. When she goes back up to her room and turns on the shower, I rush in there and write I’m sorry in the barely formed layer of steam on the mirror. I don’t regret pouring out the poison she uses to numb herself, but I do regret how deeply I’ve upset her.
