“Are you okay, sis?” Eugene asks her.
“Yes. Pick me up,” she says, trying to push herself off the floor. Her position looks extremely uncomfortable.
“That was too slow,” Caleb says. “Try again.”
I get up and walk over to a dingy couch standing in the furthest corner of the room. I take the cushions from it, and lay them on either side of Mira. No point for this to hurt more than it already must.
“Thanks, Darren,” she says before she begins shaking the chair again.
The cushions help, but it’s clearly an unpleasant practice. She does it again and again over the course of about twenty minutes. We try to give tips—which are usually met with disdain.
Eventually Caleb decides she won’t be able to improve further.
About five seconds to fall over is the best she can do.
“We need a differen
