“The names don’t even bother me. Rubber and glue and all that,” she says. She points to the box of cards on my desk. “Those are the offensive ones.” She puts her hand to her chest and does a high fake voice. “ ‘Inspiration!’ ‘Your story is so inspiring!’ ‘You’ve inspired me to live to the fullest!’ Well, great, I’m glad my terrible personal tragedy could help you get your crap together.”
