“Mrs. Adams, which rag is used for wiping the floor? I’ll clean this right now.”
I smiled and asked Mrs. Adams and David twice, yet both acted as if they hadn’t heard me. David stared out the window, while Mrs. Adams kept cracking sunflower seeds without even looking up.
I took a rag from the shelf by the kitchen door and was about to crouch down to wipe the floor when Mrs. Adams suddenly yelled, “Hey!” and hurried over, snatching the rag from my hand.
“This isn’t for wiping the floor, it’s for wiping the table! How could you use this for that?”
She turned around, took another rag from the bathroom, and tossed it to the floor near me.
“Use this one.”
I stood there for a second, the rag at my feet, feeling awkward but still determined to clean up the mess.
I picked it up just as the memory of earlier flashed through my mind—the phone call with Sarah, her voice rushed, laughter faintly drifting behind her words.
I had wanted to tell her that I was carrying too many things, that taking a taxi would be difficult.