Arguments

"Do you need an extra hand carrying the trash downstairs?" Katie asks.

"No, I've got it."

Downstairs, a dark-gray pickup with a matte paint job that makes it look like a military vehicle has parked in the spot where the garbage goes. I sidle behind it and place the garbage where it belongs, and then have an argument in my head with the owner of the pickup, insisting, "I didn't touch your stupid truck."