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His room is huge—about twice as big as mine. The only furniture is a bed and a desk sitting out in the middle of the room. I could see his dresser inside the open closet. I understood immediately why he had put it there: he needed as much wall space as possible.
He was so absorbed in what he was doing he didn’t hear me come in.
“Oh, my God.”
He spun around. “Get out.” He leapt up from his stool and came toward me and actually tried to push me—a poor defenseless gimp with a mean right cross if he really wanted to test me—out of his room.
“David, it’s fantastic! Oh, my God—did you do all this? Stop!” I yelled because he was still pushing and I was afraid he’d knock me off my crutches.
He realized what he was doing and came back to his senses.
“Get out,” he still insisted.
“I can’t
