“You need a lamp beside your couch in that apartment,” Mom said, completely out of nowhere. “What?” “Your living room. It’s too dark. Do you want the one from the den at home? We don’t need it.” “That’s okay, Mom. You keep that. I’ll get one.” “Yuna! He doesn’t need our old furniture! He’s a millionaire!” “It’s a nice lamp!” she argued. “They don’t make nice things anymore.”

