Then, her voice took up a puzzled tinge
“But, I really didn’t get it for you. I saw it on your table. I haven’t even been home for weeks, you should know that.”
“Ohhh cut it, you’ve obviously been home. I can’t keep reminding you to leave your things on your side of the room, and mine, on my side. I can’t keep cleaning up after you.”
In no time, my hands had worked out the clothes I’d hidden at the back of my drawers, and taking a second look at them, there was no way any of her ratty friends could afford them
“Say that they aren’t yours now. The combs too, also, I thought you were allergic to powder.”
And turning to stuff them back in I heard her say, in her most flippant voice,
“They aren’t mine”
then she flopped back onto the bed, in her usual, uncaring state. Unwilling to give a response, yet irked, I said