On the sixth day, I finally stopped feeling sorry for myself and owned what I’d done. I sat up in the empty room, and fiddled with the ends of my hair. That was a habit I didn’t have until after Ivy… s**t, Ivy. I’d been making her put up with so much crap for the last week that I groaned putting my head in my hands. It was almost enough to lay back down and disappear right on back into that stupor I’d just snapped myself out of. This was… my thoughts blanked when it came for application of an adjective. That’s where Ivy found me, sitting restlessly and blinking as if going back to sleep.
“Hello little one,” she said softly. Ivy hadn’t been slacking off in the talking department the last couple of days, even though I hadn’t been answering. She just kept up the conversation on both ends. I
