Roberta came in in about an hour. “I didn’t hear you get up.”
“You were sleeping. Guess you’re pretty tired.”
“I was.”
She sat on the arm of my chair, her hand on my shoulder, looking down at the paper.
“Did you call Mrs. Cool again?”
“Yes.”
“What did she say?”
“Same thing.”
“What did you do. Donald?”
“Same thing.”