"But don't you see you could use this to put your things in?"
"I don't plan on having as many things as you."
She seemed taken aback but, to my own surprise, I wanted it to cut a little deeper. "Fair enough. I liked it. I just thought you would too.”
"I don't want it. It's not staying."
"Okay, but I'm not carrying it out of here," Mom relented. She was calling my bluff. She put her hands up and backed out of the room. "You figure it out."
As soon as she heard the screeching of wood versus wood, Mom was on her feet. "Oh my God, are you serious?" she shouted as she found me pushing the display case through the hallway.
“Wait! Wait! Where are you taking it?” she asked, blocking my path.
“Just putting it with everything else,” I said as I readjusted my arms to try and turn the corner into the “dining room”. She stepped out of the way. “Be careful!”
I could already feel the strain on my wrists so I planted my feet as stubbornly as those lion paws and pressed my right shoulder against the side again. With a big push, the display case moved into the mass of storage bins and plastic bags. It was still blocking the hallway entrance so I pushed further. I could hear the tearing of bags followed by the crunching of cardboard and plastic and I steadily push