“Why did you give me those Twizzlers?” “What do you mean?” “I mean . . . I had just barked at you. You were angry. But then you handed me the candy as if nothing had happened.” She seemed to ponder that, then said, “I could see that you were upset. I knew it had nothing to do with me but rather what my question prompted you to have to think about. I didn’t take your anger personally—aside from your using the term ‘weaseling.’ Your anger was directed toward me, I suppose, but it really wasn’t meant for me. And the truth is . . . as curious as I may be about you . . . what happened isn’t any of
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