“Nice.”
One more deep breath and calm replaces my anxiety. I've regained my composure. I watch her musing over the remote and finally laugh with her. Another time, another place, we might have been friends. Maybe even best friends.
I'm about to tell her about the remotes for the kitchen monitor hidden in the casserole dish and the remote for the panic room when she says, “Want to know what I think someone should invent?”
I wish they could invent a way to reposition one's heart.
She holds up the roll of toilet paper. “Self-flushing toilet with edible toilet paper. That way you can snack while you sit, especially if you're left sitting for a long time.”
I'm laughing so hard, salty tears pour down my face and into my mouth. I can't remember ever laughing this way. It's as if I've been se
