The purse was moving, swinging. Mom kept drawing white tissues out. The purse was flying, slamming to a stop. There was a roar and a squeal. The purse was thrown off the seat, picked up, swinging fast again, flying, then finally stopped, crashing in front of the TV. The twins, the wallet, the silverware, Nick, and most of the stuff in the purse scattered from the doorway to the easy chair. Mom, cussing, kicked the wallet. The wallet bumped Nick. Nick slid under the couch.
Dad came down the hall. "What's wrong."
"That bitch Sarah. She set me up again."
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