After a huge fight, that crazy girl slammed the door and stormed out.

I went right back to the study to play games.

We had blowups like this every month, so I was long used to it.

I was honestly glad I’d rented an entire two-bedroom apartment back then.

At least we each had our own space, somewhere to catch our breath when we were upset and annoyed.

But over the past year, her temper had only gotten worse.

We could have lived under the same roof, stayed in separate rooms, and minded our own business just fine, yet she kept running out.

At first, I worried it might be dangerous for a girl to be out alone.

Later, I just got numb to it.

With her messy hair and sloppy, rough-around-the-edges look, even if she went out in the middle of the night, she’d blend right in with the aunties doing square dancing.

Letting her go out, get some cold air, and clear her head wasn’t such a bad thing.

Maybe then she’d stop throwing tantrums all the time.

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