not look at me at first.
“I’m sorry,” she said finally. “The curtains. The couch. The roses. All of it.”
“Why did you do it?”
She was quiet for a long time.
“Because I felt like nothing was mine,” she said. “Like we were living in someone else’s museum. I wanted to make it ours. I wanted to feel like I had control over something.”
“So you took control of continue reading …
