“I love that top,” she says, and it’s nice when a person with so little still finds room in their heart to compliment others. Also, I like the way she always notices when something I’m wearing is new.
“That’s good, seeing that I brought you one just like it,” I tell her, my eyes narrowed, a smile playing on my lips. I know it sounds crazy, buying us matching clothes and all, but she doesn’t seem to mind.
“Thank you,” she replies, her eyes widening. She places the bag on the table and it shakes. I tell her we probably ought to replace it, get her something more fitting, more elegant, and she looks away. There used to be a lamp on top of that table— before she came. I remember how you told me it was too dangerous to keep it as we stood over her unconscious body. I watched as you yanked the
