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     Mary was washing dishes when she thought she had let enough time pass to sound casual.  "Sara's reaction last night after dinner bugged me so much, I had a hard time sleeping.  You know, I still don't quite understand why she'd be so mean to me.  I know I shouldn't let it bug me like this, but, what do you think..."
     "Goddamit!"  The blue box of Honey Oats slapped against the wall between the microwave and the sink.  "You don't get it, do you?"
     "No.  What?"
     "It's not her; it's you."
     "Me?  I..."
     "Don't give me that 'I don't know what you mean' crap.  You do."
     "But I don't!"
     "'But I don't!'  Of course you do.  You're nothing but mean to Sara."
     "I'm mean?"
     "You're always making fun of her.  You can't keep your mouth shut for one second without something snarky coming out of it."
     "I like Sara!  I might tease, but she knows I'm just kidding.  I..."
     "You're always like this.  With waitresses, too.  You sound so superior."
     "How?  How do I sound superior?"
     "You speak to them all snotty and are so picky about your orders."
     Mary's mouth worked open and closed, her wet hands limp on the edge of the stainless steel sink.
     "Forget it.  You don't understand.  You can't understand because you're so much better than everyone else.  Everyone else living in your shadow."