Art by MeddygonThere is a fine line \ Between genius and madness. \ It is called timing.

I really, really, really hate it when people think that giving generic advice on a specific situation will help matters, or make them look smarter, wiser, and more experienced – especially when it’s unwanted and un-asked for.

Well, Maria’s back here. She went straight home from school because she wanted money, or so she says. She called her parents to pick her up from downtown. I bet she just got lost/confused.

Just thought I should mention that Maria and I were late for class yesterday because she spent 45 minutes on her hair.

She and I had class at the same time, so I figured I’d teach her how to use public transportation. That’s right, she never knew how to use it. I explained to her that we needed to leave really early, because we’d be walking part of the way to get our bus passes.

I set a time for us to leave. She was ten minutes late for that, because of her hair.
The words, “You’re walking too fast,” were common from her mouth. Strangely, I was walking slower than normal.

We waited for a bus, got on, then waited for a train. I had to tell her to hang on to her bags. First thing she did in the train was take a pair of seats for herself, throwing her book bag and purse on the seat next to her.

I also had to explain to her to make sure to get on the NORTHBOUND train to get home. I reiterated- it’s the one that says HOWARD on it.

I haven’t seen her since we arrived at school yesterday. She probably got lost.

Chicago was flooded. “Jefferson” street was slowly becoming a river. It was shallow, but swimable. A bridge had been built over it, but the supports to that were crumbling. I stood, waiting, watching. People shopped around in the city slowly becoming Venice. Others swam in the forming channels. One woman and several others stood upon the bridge and admired the view. The men noticed bits of concrete falling into the water, and darted off the bridge. The woman panicked, and fell with the bridge. She was alright, and was helped to the edge by swimmers. The water was freezing, as it was winter. A man exited the water with his swimming trunks hanging to low. He didn’t pull them up until someone commented that the mouse was out of the house.

At this time I was reminded that I was traveling somewhere for business. I checked my arms to make sure my tattoos would not be peeking out under my sleeves. I also examined my tattoos. On my right shoulder, I had the Powerpuff Girls. On my left, I had “Cartoon Cold Sunday Night.” (I have no idea what that meant.) I put my sleeves down, and the bus I was waiting for arrived.

I was traveling by Greyhound to wherever it was I was going. The bus was going to “East Ohio,” and making a stop in “Westfield,” which was where I was going. As we traveled, I stared out into the countryside. Many rivers and bridges were in the view, and many of the bridges were being worked on by construction crews. Thankfully, none of the bridges the bus traveled on were being worked on.

Arriving in Westfield, I find myself in a road-apple ridden amusement park. I look for someone who works there, as it is after hours, and I need to speak to the management regarding a job I was assigned. One of the workers is Isha. I greet her, have a good It’s-been-so-long-since-I’ve-seen-you cry, and she leads me to a store.

At the store are other people shopping, but most noticeably are Jorenko, ZRaven, and Squee. Only Jorenko takes active part in shopping with me for Nintendo products. There are several systems of SNES and NES variety piled in a corner next to a TV, along with many games. For some reason, there are BOX SNESs as well as Box NESs.

We decide to test out a couple systems, just to make sure they work. Sure enough they do, and, for some reason, the NES we grabbed was playing a Gamecube Zelda game. It was great looking, and Link looked like a 3d, cel-shaded version of the Animated Series Link. Whoever was playing was repeatedly attacking the already dead moblin from the cinematic we’d just seen.

I ask the people behind the counter for the pricing, and the man says, “We don’t carry that.” The girl grabs a catolog and slams it on the table in front of him. The man returns to his knitting, and the punk-raver girl flips through for the prices. $12 for a box NES, $14 for the top-loader, $31 for the box SNES, $33 for the top-loader.

And that’s where I woke up.

Legalise, regulate, and tax the hell out of prostitution.

She just walked in, looked in the mirror, said “Trust me, girl, I know.”

Then she waits a brief moment and tries to start up the conversation we just had wherein she didn’t detect I insulted her intelligence.

So I went on and insulted her intelligence, and she didn’t get any of it.

I explained to her how her generalizations are usually wrong and offensive, and she’s like “what generalizations”

To which I replied the pastor conversation (wherein she stated that any man of god who is not a Catholic priest is a man of the devil and will trick you), assuming all online communities are cults, among other things.

“I never said any of that!”

BULL FUCKING SHIT.

She denied every point I brought to mind, and she could only defend herself with actions that happened today. She said I’m being rude, but she couldn’t exactly place why other than I’ve told her to shut up today.

She said she’s PREFER me to interrupt her to affirm what she’s saying. I see that as ruder that asking her to not repeat herself. She would prefer that I smile and nod than counter her non-working mind’s views.

Christ, did this girl just totally ignore anything regarding free-thought when she was growing up?

She doesn’t realize how stupid she’s making herself look when she repeats herself constantly. I attempt to explain this to her. I tell her that people might not comment not because they don’t get what she’s saying, but because they don’t get WHY she’s saying, and saying so much. She replies that I should say something. Again, I explain to her that “I will not speak while someone else is speaking, it’s rude to talk ove-”

Maria: “Nonononono, yo-”

Me: “You’re talking over me right now, be quiet for a second so I can explain this to you. When you talk, you don’t breathe: you repeat yourself right after you just said it, and you leave no room for someone to comment without talking over you. And when I do take the time to follow your rules and comment while you’re speaking, you don’t shut up and you don’t let me add to the conversation.”

Maria: “Nonono, you don’t get it, I just want a ‘uh-huh’ or something.”

Me: “I give you that, but you’re too busy talking to notice; You’re too busy saying, ‘Trust me, I know’ five times to things you barely get.”

Maria: “What do I barely get? I mean, what is it that you’ve told me that I don’t understand? What is something you’ve explained that you think I don’t understand?”

Me: “My situation at the arcade (I get tokens from doing side work for the owner. She thinks I get tokens by flirting with everyone.). My relationship with Troy. (She assumes he’s my ‘Chicago Boyfriend’ while Jorenko is my ‘Out of Town Boyfriend’) My request to not be involved in your dealings with others.”

Maria: “It’s just my way of saying, ‘Okay, whatever.'”

Me: “Wouldn’t it be easier to say, ‘Okay, whatever,’ than pretending you understand and making your own false generalizations about it?”

Maria: “Generalizations? Wha?”

Me: *scoff, smirk*

Maria: “Okay, fine, whatever, I get it, you’re so rude.”

Me: “At least I don’t try to spark up conversation with a person who’s just going to to bathroom.”

Maria: “What, you mean this morning? All I said was hi and you just ignored me!”

Me: “I waved, I nodded, and I said ‘Hi’ back.”

Maria: “I didn’t see that.”

Me: “Then you continued talking to the TV.”

Maria: “I do that a lot.”

Me: “You talked loud enough, as if you were trying to comment to me about what was going on on the TV.”

Maria: “Nonononono, girl, I talk to myself while watching tv. It’s just commenting on what’s on, Ashley does the same.”

Me: “You usually make verbal comments when someone else is in the room, which would not be ‘all the time.'”

Maria: “It’s not like I talk to myself.”

Me: “You just said you did.”

Maria: “Wha? You’re rude! I just comment to no one about what I think is funny or stupid on TV”

Me: “So you enjoy narrating your thought process. I can live with that.”

Maria: “Narrating? What does that mean? You’re rude. It’s not narrating.”

Me: “It’ Narrating. Making verbal your thoughts or actions.”

Maria: “You see? You get it. And the other things I say mean that I don’t care.”

Me: “Alright, now that I know that, I won’t take anything you say to heart.”

Maria: “You know, you’ve got your own sayings and stupid stuff like that, too.” *leaves the room*

I dare her to name any. She’d probably say that my use of three-syllable words is rude. She’d probably say that I’m scary. She’s probably say I’m stupid for hanging out at an arcade. She’d probably say that I’m scary because I play videogames. She’d probably say I’m satanic because I spend time on the internet.

Maria: (insert long one-sided conversation about nothing in particular in which she repeats herself five or so times) “… haha, you’re so funny, you’re like, ‘Ah! Our school’ and you hide behind the door, haha, the commercial for our school comes on and you’re-”

Me: “Yes, I understand that you find my actions humorous, but do you have to repeat it fifteen times?”

Maria: “Well, you look like you don’t get it, so that’s why I repeat myself, like you’re giving me this ‘huh?’ look, you know?”

Me: “It’s more of a look of ‘Why the hell is she repeating herself?”

Maria: “You take so long to respond, you’re like, haha, wait wait wait ‘this is why'”

Me: “That’s because some people actually take the time to think about what they’re going to say before they say it.”

Maria: “Haha, you’re so funny. What do you mean by that? I don’t get it.”

Me: “I figured it’d go over your head.”

Maria: (as I am walking into my room) “Hahah, you’re so funny, Amanda, you scare me.” (returns to watching Jerry Springer).

I don’t know about the plot of this dream, or even if there was one, but it was loosely based on Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (or however it’s spelt)

There were dementors chasing me (I replaced Harry) around. Herm- *cough* Ms. Granger was played by Ashley, and was obsessed with checking the mail. Snape was played by James from the arcade. Jorenko was Ron.

Odd dreams. Snow in it, too.

Before that was a futurama dream. Snow in that, too. Bender was forced to dress as a “nice” santa for X-mas, and he didn’t want to, so he faked his own death, then he and I went out to the movies for the hell of it.

I often wonder how much, if at all, Maria thinks before she speaks; or does she prefer to narrate her process of incorrectly generalizing what she’s just heard?

How many people take into account the muscle structure of chicken as they’re eating it?

Jorenko 47 danced with Cheddar Cheese and now Schroe 47 hates Cheddar.

The air seems as cluttered as my desk with all this noise.

I’m fairly certain this one started in the middle of something, because that’s where my first memory of it comes in. Some guy (I’m pretty sure it was Jon Dark) and I had just finished fighting of a bunch of armed guards. More were coming, and we had no chance to escape.

I look at him, saying, “It was nice knowing you,” and give him a quick kiss. I’m certain we are going to die, because I’m about to pull my trump card – I have one final attack that would get rid of all of them . . . and us. Jon is scared and confused, but I am calm. We are all going to die – why am I not scared?

A blue wave of energy rotates it’s way into the room, going through the walls and making it’s way into the room we’re in. I look at it and smile, happy to see this end. Jon freaks, asking what’s going on, what’s going to happen, etc.

He hides behind me, and starts kissing my neck.

And then we die.

The next thing my eyes see is an underworld. Not really a fiery Hell, but more of a series of underground caves that just happen to have lava floors in some places. It is, of course, familiar to me, but one element is not – Jon. How did he get here? More importantly, how do I get rid of him?

I explain to him what this place is – It is the home of the angels and demons, and this is where we are placed until we are issued a new body. He asked me what I am, angel or demon, and I explain that I am one quarter demon and (this part made me laugh when I woke up) my mother was half-Shikima . As I explained, I walked do different places, doing my usual routine, and Jon followed me. I remember him muttering, “why couldn’t you be an angel?” I laugh to myself and think, “I never said what the other 3/4 were.”

Whoops, time to regen.

Stabbin thugs, and other things I can’t remember, because stupid bitches talk loud and harm my brain and memory.

Maria just got back from her weekend trip to her parent’s house.

First thing she asks me to do is rat our anything Ashley said to me about her.

I told her to leave me alone. She was shocked. She then tried to convince me that it was alright for me to tell her anything Ashley had said about her. I again told her no, leave me out of this, and never try to bring me into this again.

And she left.

—-

10:53

When she left, she didn’t shut the door. She just returned to shut it, but only shut it half way. I don’t mean half-way as in she didn’t pull it closed, I mean it’s literally half-way. 45-degree angle.

Dream 1 was the steps to Muhon on crazy. Seriously. I dreamt the steps to Solitary. Might have something to do with the eight hours of Pump It Up yesterday.

Dream 2, I was in Ohio, in an apartment that resembled my Aunt Mary’s from a while ago. I was a bit angry at my mother for holding me there so long, and inside. After a while, she let me go outside, and I used a pair of shingles as skis, and chopsticks as ski poles. There was snow in the large parking lot, so I skied all around the place, and even down the mounds that the plow made.

But soon, it was time to go. I was happy to go, but still sad to have to stop skiing. I had to go because my train was leaving soon, and my mother just seemed to ignore the fact that we’d been there so long. I recall (in the dream) that mother had said, “Don’t worry about bringing your bags and ticket. We won’t be there long.”

It’s now about forty-five minutes until my train leaves, and we’ve still got to go home and get my stuff. (Mother has done stuff similar to this in real life.)

Time passes, and I’m at the train station. I rush to get my train. For whatever reason, Jorenko’s there waiting for me. We’re both going back to Chicago, I was just separated from him for a bit.

The trains resemble CTA trains from the outside, but on the inside, they’re two-floor things, with first class on the top floor.
Jorenko and I are seated in the rear car, with seats facing in, and behind us, the back window. For whatever reason, we’re permitted to decorate the area as we see fit. Apparently, it’s going to be a long ride.

About a half hour into the traveling, though, we hear a crash. Someone runs into our car and yells, “The lift has fallen through!” The train grinds to a halt, and we soon find out that the lift on a car near the front has fallen not only the small drop, but completely through the floor of the train. Everyone who had crammed into the small lift as a joke had died (crushed under the train) and they took others with them by tearing out the floor.

Before they evacuated the train, they needed it off the tracks. (I think these were high-speed, always-moving, never-delayed trains, so it was imperative that we be off the track, lest we take out the next train as well.) We rolled in reverse, then forward again, then in reverse on another track. After a while, each car was lifted, separately, by a large crane. This meant we would be the last ones lifted.

Nothing had happened to us, and we didn’t even see the thing that had caused our wreck. Jorenko and I started packing up our little decorations. One of the things I had was a little green Q-bert, and a Mr. Saturn figurine. I reached for them, and someone else reached for them at the same time.

“Those are mine,” I said.
“Nuh-uh, you probably don’t even know what they are!”
“Q-bert and Mr. Saturn.” I grabbed them.
“Let go of them!” the fat man-child said, and tried to get them from me. I pulled on them, and bit at him until he let go, then put the things in my bag. I had also kicked him a few times.

It was our turn to be lifted. Jorenko and I had buckled ourselves in again, and held onto our bags. The other people laughed at us, saying it was an unnecessary precaution, the cranes were perfectly safe.

The cranes worked by grabbing with two separate cranes each end of the car. The far end, where the people laughing at us were sitting, slipped out, and the slammed into the ground. They cried, were shocked and appalled that such things could happen to them. Had Jorenko and I not been buckled in, we’d have fallen face first from one end of the car to the other, straight into them.

We tried to keep from laughing. The fact that the other crane dropped us next helped us do so. We were off the track, so they just rolled our car the rest of the way, then let us out.

Well, fuck, we can’t go to Chicago yet.

Dream 3 somewhat stems from Dream 2, but all knowledge from Dream 2 is forgotten.

Mall time. Jorenko’s gone. I’m with someone I don’t know very well showing them around. I’m pointing out restaurants and stores, asking if she wants to go in anything, and she doesn’t. (I remember this mall from an old dream.) We get around the entire mall, and she hasn’t looked in anything. “Well,” I said, “I’m going to the arcade, you’re welcome to join me.”

She silently followed, and got in the VR machine. I choose my character to be one of Cassandra’s female body guards in Perfect Dark. Another player joins, and chooses a blonde buzzcut male, resembling the American ideal of a soldier, or Duke Nukem in olive drab.

We have jetpacks in the level, and I make full use of it. The other player and I have shootouts, per the norm of the game, but he takes to hiding under the platforms and shooting up.

Camping. Bad camping at that. The platforms are long and easy to get under from many angles. I sneak up behind him, under a platform, and take him out.

I quickly get out from under there and move up to a top corner of the place. It’s dark, he can’t see me. I can see the entire level, and I watch him check all the platforms for me. When he comes up from the final one, I blast him with a cannon ball.

The game goes on for a while longer, but it’s a blowout. I win yay.

Dream end.

We moved the PREX machine; it’s facing a different way. The 2nd-player side of the stage is next to the window, so when people look in, they have a better view. I was the first to play on the new setup and it was damned cool. In Another Truth on Doubles, there’s a part where its a bunch of 17 and 39 doubles, and it ends on the 39 of the right side. There was a lady standing right outside the window, watching. When I hit the end step, she flinched.

Someone asked me how I could believe in a higher power and not believe in “God”.

Conversation as follows.

Me: Name something you’re good at.
Him: Drawing.
Me: Name someone better than you.
Him: You.
Me: Name someone better than me.
Him: Edward Aldrich.
Me: Name someone better than him.
Him: I dunno, Van Gogh?
Me: And then there’s someone better than him, and then better than that person. These people are going to be better than other people at other things, too. Eventually, you’ll come across someone who’s better than everyone else at everything. That is the higher power, though he would not be the Christian God, or Muslim Alah, or any other idea of God.

Toad just reminded me how much I hate Rare for changing Joanna. The image gallery he linked to reminds me of a porn shoot.

—

I loved Perfect Dark. It was the greatest game ever, and that was partially because the main character was not a fucking bimbo. Joanna was a competent agent, short haired, skilled, and forceful. She was NOT someone who’d look good in a playboy bunny suit with anti-gravity breasts. In-game, her figure was normal. Average. But the marketing, and now the redesign, put her more disproportionate than Barbie Dolls.

It really disgusts me. I was going to buy an X-Box because of Perfect Dark, but now . . . Now I don’t want to buy anything from Rare at all.

They’d better change the name of the series, because that thing is not Joanna.

I don’t want to deal with either one of them, but only one of them respects my wish to be left out of it. The other keeps trying to drag me into it.

—

I moved to Chicago because I hoped to mingle with other cultures and learn more about the world.

I get stuck with people who have no idea what culture is.

My current answering machine message:

“How are you gentlemen – All your message are belong to us. This an answering machine, not answering service. If you are calling for anyone other than Amanda, Ashley, or Maria, please hang up now. If you are a telemarketter, fundraiser, or anyone else wanting to collect money, we are all poor college students, so please hang up. If you genuinely need to contact any of the current residents of 802, please leave a message after the tone.”

If you couldn’t tell by the opening greeting, this is all in the voice of CATS.

—–

The message clearly states that you should leave messages for Amanda, Ashley, or Maria.

“Jessica, this is your mother, that’s such a cute message! Tom’ll be calling right back to hear it! Happy Halloween!”
“Heh heh heh, so cute, Jessica. Happy Halloween.”

JESSICA MOVED OUT 32 DAYS AGO.

“You’re my witness,” she says to me, and grabs my forearm.

I yank it back and say, “No.” She looks at me, confused. “I didn’t see anything. I wasn’t there for any of it. I’m not part of this, do not bring me into it.”

She was shocked that I wouldn’t agree with her.

More on the roommate situation:

I was wrong about Maria trying to fight with Ashely. What had happened was Anna, a friend of Ashley’s, came over and tried to fight with Maria.

I could hear most of the conversation, and, basically, Anna was trying to fight for Ashley’s “rights” that Maria had supposedly violated. (things mentioned: Moving into the room, taking potato chips). When confronted with this, Ashley stated that she had no problem with Maria being in the room since, technically, her own room deal didn’t start until November.

Maria claims to not have taken the chips. I do not know either way, I have no knowledge of her actions regarding potato chips, other than that she doesn’t clean up after herself (or her friends)

Maria overheard Anna and Ashley speaking across the hall. (NOTE: The following information is based entirely on Maria’s side of the story.) Ashley had been exaggerating Maria’s “crimes” and whining that “I[Ashley] ask her[Maria] about the chips, and they suddenly returned to their place in the cupboard.” She also told Anna that after their “fight,” Maria was crying and saying how much she wanted to kick Anna’s ass. (I saw Maria directly after the fight and was there for the discussion she had with Ashley – Maria wanted nothing more than to get Anna out of the apartment, and to keep her from returning with that attitude. Maria was most definitely not crying.)

Yes, Ashley is apparently two-faced.
But, Maria is a liar. She one more than one occasion has lied about something to avoid responsibility. Cleaning up beer bottles, for one. She also claimed no dishes, even though she’s the only one that uses glasses. Ashley and I use water bottles or pop cans. Who’s not to say that Maria is lying about the chips?

When speaking to either one, I get the impression that they are trying to get me to turn against the other. Maria is more blatant about it than Ashley. Ashley will exaggerate to get a rise out of others, while Maria will say it almost directly that you should do something. Neither one can get me to do anything except bitch on Livejournal.

Kinda makes me wish that, after a few years of distance from these two, they come across my journal and see what they presented themselves as.

I’m a kitty!

Maria asks me if Ashley’s mad at her. I tell her I don’t know. She then asks if I have any idea what could make her mad. I mention the beer bottles that have been sitting there all weekend. “They aren’t mine, they aren’t Ashley’s. Someone’s got to clean up after themselves.”

Maria’s response: “They’re Mike’s.”

“So are you going to ask him to come up and clean up, or are you going to clean up after your guest?”

“No, listen, this is how it is. I only had two beers, and Mike had like, six,” She then explains everything that I just told her with with many useless words and little sense. She then declares that she can’t clean up because there’s no room in the trash can.

“So take change the bag.”
“I don’t know where to take it.”
“I’ll show you. Clean up.”
“Look, I only drank two…” and she goes on again about how much she drank.

“That doesn’t matter. Unless you want to set those bottles in front of Mike’s door, you’re cleaning them up.”

“Okay, mom.”

“Those bottles have been sitting there all weekend.”
“They’ve been sitting there two days! Mike ordered Pizza and beer!”
“And you had Mike over on Friday night when I came back. You two never clea-”
“We cleaned that up! He was over Monday again.”
“Fine, fine, whatever, just clean it up already.” The bottles had most definitely been there since Friday, unless she cleaned up, and they made the exact same mess and placed the bottles in the exact same spots with the exact same amount of beer in them on Monday.

She comes up with another brilliant defense. “What about those dishes, huh? How long have they been sitting there? Since last week?”
“They aren’t mine.”
“But still…”
“Come on,” I said, and lifted the garbage bag I’d been tying off.

She followed me to the trash chute, all the while bitching about how she’d rather we talk to her face than bitch behind her back (which we hadn’t done.) She then got in the lift and took the beer bottles to Mike’s apartment.

And she’s 24. Fucking immature.

I don’t remember much, but it started with started with my confusion as to why there were several technology related things hanging on a wall in our apartment (though it didn’t look like my current one). I asked Ashley if they were hers, and she said no. I looked at one item, an indigo-cased photo printer with images saved onto it’s drive. All the images were of me and Jorenko. I looked at another item. Everything within it related to Jorenko and myself.

I walked outside, and then to a mall. Jorenko was with me. There’s some kiosk set up to assist people in learning to use computers. I decide to look at it. The tutors weren’t very good at their job. They refused to explain things in a manner in which the people they were teaching could understand. They kept using only the technical terms, and confusing people more. I stepped over and tried to explain something to someone so they’d understand it, and the suit-n-tie technician that was instructing him got pissed off. He told me to stay out of this and let him do his job.

Hrmph. How rude. I tapped him on the shoulder, and asked him his name. It was Alan Boihd. (Dunno the name at all in real life.) “Well, Alan, I’m Amanda, and I think you’re doing a pretty crappy job at your voca-”
“Well, Amanda was it? I think you should leave now.”
Hrmph. He turned to face his coworker and strike up conversation with him. I leaned over and whispered to him, “You’ll pay for your crimes…”

Jorenko then pulled me away, and I continued to complain about how rude it was of the man to ignore me, and how rude it was for him to ignore that the person he’s teaching isn’t understanding anything.

We walked to another a store and browsed the art therein. Jorenko accidentally stepped on one of the artworks while trying to look at another, so I quickly ushered him out, upset that he was such a klutz.

Into yet another store we went, and we bought some sunglasses.

While walking to the next place, we saw the side of a store called “M. Boihd, A. Boihd.” The Boihd brothers owned their own store, and the M was an artist, while the A was a tech. I felt the strong urge to cause their place much damage, but I held back.

It was near closing time for the mall, but my sunglasses weren’t fitting right, so Jorenko and I ran as fast as we could. We caught the store as it was closing, and the owners didn’t notice us in it when they locked up. Great.

Jorenko looked around for a way out. I set about looking at the merchandise. I found a bedroom setting, and turned on a tv in there. The TV blipped out rather quickly, and a monster jumped out of the closet. The monster pinned me in a corner between the bed and the wall and raped me. I quickly recovered and turned on the TV again. Jorenko walked in and saw I was watching an anime he’d seen. “Did you see the predator in the closet scene?” he asked. I just nodded.

Jorenko had come in to tell me he’d found a way out, but I didn’t follow right away. I instead grabbed a new cell phone and a new pair of sunglasses. Jorenko asked me, “What use are those things to you? You can’t change the settings yourself.”

While I was still looking for the glasses I wanted, I said to him, “You know, I realized something: this is my world and I control it.”

We walked outside, and I made a point that I controlled it by causing damage to the Boihd store without even touching it. I put on my sunglasses and walked off, but Jorenko didn’t follow me.