Part three

It's 1:35 AM. Two and a half hours ago the printer didn't print and the shrieking began, as did the litany of complaints about life, death, school, lack of sleep, Aspergers, ALS, and on and on and on. At 1 AM I moved to the sanctuary provided by the living room; I should have done so earlier since I am not only the one looked to for comfort, I am the target for her frustration.

It's now 1:46 AM. The alarm goes off in four hours.