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“Wha…”

I try, I really do But at this point, I actually have no words I’m not entirely sure I can speak

She swags this shit across the top of the , over sorandpa, and then stands back to admire the effect

“A littleo’ shit

“What are you doing?” I finally get out, rather proud of ether

“Well, it seerunts, as she continued futzing with the feathers, “so I pulled out soed toup Can you believe he didn’t like pink feather boas?”

I look around my room, a desecration of the shrine that I’d erected to Harley-David

son, and ” underneath my breath

“What?” she says absentain and admire her handiwork

“Nothing,” I sayin my throat”

She nods, clearly not caring, and then goes back to her bag to pull out

“Becca, you can’t put that up!” I protest I don’t care how ood

She pauses in her task of hanging up a string of alternating pink and purple hearts around and over a metal sculpture of a Harley-Davidson 1967 motorcycle “But Harlan,” she says seriously, “you haven’t seen thes them in “They blink!”

The wad of lights begin to flash chaotically

“No, no, no, no,” I say, swinging s out of bed “Absolutely not”