I smiled at her and said, "Luna, it seems like you have been busy these days."
Her triumphant expression froze.
Then Luna picked up a vase angrily and threw it at me.
It came flying at my chest.
The wound on my back, which had been hit, split open and I staggered.
"Will this make you feel better?"
"Mateo, you're a son of a bitch!"
"Why didn't you die in the hospital?"
Luna stomped her foot and cursed me.
I calmly shook my head at her and said, "Luna, you're silly. You remembered it wrong again. You always say Mateo is the best."
Mateo was the best.
I liked to hear Luna say that.
When would Luna get her memory back?
Feeling angry, Luna turned around and stomped back to her room.
There was a bang.
I looked at the mess on the floor, shook my head, and smiled bitterly. Then I started cleaning up.
Fortunately, Luna made a fuss today, so she would be quiet for a while.
I carefully cleaned every nook and cranny of the house.
Finally, I put the shredded family photo pieces on the coffee table.
I took out the glue and skillfully stuck them together.
I took the photo upstairs, and Luna sulked under the quilt.
The quilt was bulging in the middle.