A few minutes later, I hear a soft knock on the door. I don’t want to recognize the sound of her knuckles hitting wood, unless that wood is attached to my crotch. Still, I know it’s her. “Mal?” she asks. “Leave.” “We’re heading out.” I don’t say anything, because that’s exactly what I said she should do. Go away. “Can we grab you something? Food? Milk? Bleach? Manners?”
