I looked down at my white towels lying in the grime near the drain pipe.

“Those towels were clean,” I said.

“They’re in my way,” she said.

I didn’t raise my voice, and I didn’t step toward her.

I knelt down on the cold concrete, picked up the damp towels one by one, and shook the floor dust out of the terry cloth.

My right knee popped twice against the hard floor, but I kept my mouth shut until every piece was back in my basket.

I lifted the heavy plastic laundry basket with both arms and carried it upstairs to my room.