“What happened?” Marx asked. He petted Sam’s shorn head. “I got hot,” Sam said. “It looks good,” Marx said. “Right?” Sadie knew there was probably some message in this for her, but she couldn’t be bothered to decipher it. It made her feel egomaniacal and ungenerous to think this way, but wasn’t there always some game Sam was playing? Wasn’t there always some maze for her to solve?
