There it was, that first crack in the wall. It still didn't give way, but she wasn't meeting such complete resistance anymore.
"Let me guess, you snuck downstairs one Christmas when you were a kid, and saw your Dad putting out the presents, not Santa," she said. "Trust me, sweetheart, if I wanted to make money, I could have done something else." She flipped her hair over her shoulder for emphasis.
Her mind was still trying to press into that small space, to force it to expand to let her in. God, it was tiring. It was almost staring to hurt, but she kept at it. "Or maybe your own home life is just so joyless, you just can't let anyone be happy if you're not."