Morning. Stan slowly woke up from what seemed to be an endless night. He barely could sleep after all the turmoil from the previous day.

As he opened his eyes, he noticed a familiar figure standing before him. It was Shelly, staring at him with her hands on her waist. Surprise was all over his face.

"Shelly? For how long have you been here?"

"I just got here."

A few microexpressions on her face said otherwise. Apparently, she has been watching her brother sleep for some time.

She relaxed her arms and pointed behind her with her right thumb.

"You're up now, right? So now, you can go downstairs to eat."

With that said, she turned around and exited the room. Stan was perplexed. Normally, Shelly would have yanked him off the bed or poured water on his head to wake him up. She didn't even call him "turd". What was wrong with her?

Sitting on his bed, he rubbed his eyes and got to his feet. He walked through the door of his room, still in his pajamas, and headed towards the stairs. Before he reached the first degree, however, he heard some noise coming from Shelly's room. Curious, he went there to check and found the door open.

Standing in the doorway, Stan watched what was going on inside. There were a few boxes, full of content, scattered on the floor. Shelly herself was on her knees, putting some of her possessions in one of those boxes. Stan walked in.

"What are you doing?" He asked.

"Tidying." She answered, not deviating from her task at hand.

He stood there, motionless, watching his sister working, and waited a few seconds before finally speaking up.

"You… want help?"

Shelly looked at Stan, surprised. Stan offering to do something for her was very rare. But, in the end, she decided that she could use an extra pair of hands.

"Uh… sure." She got up, walked to the front of her bed and placed her hands under it. "There's another box under the bed. I'll lift, you get it."

Stan noticed that on the bed, there were two other boxes, adding their weights to it.

"You'll lift? Isn't it too heavy?"

Shelly frowned at his question. He probably forgot who he was talking to.

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that." She declared.

Putting on some effort, she managed to lift the bed a few feet off the ground. Stan grabbed the previously mentioned box and dragged it close to the others, after which Shelly gently placed the bed back in its place.

Stan then took the opportunity to look into the boxes. In one of them, he found a portrait of his family back at Tegridy Farms. Randy looked happy in the picture. The rest of the family, not so much.

"Hey, the farm. Good memories, huh?" He commented.

"Hmph. I don't have and good memories of that place." She replied, a little bitterly.

"Yeah. Me neither." He tossed the portrait back in the box. He then found another picture that caught his attention. It was a picture of the two of them from three years ago. Shelly, still with her headgear, was glaring at Stan, who looked nervous.

"Hmm. Long time I don't see one of these."

He remembered now. Shelly had destroyed every picture in the house that showed her with the headgear after removing it, claiming that she didn't want any memory of her time with it. Looks like she forgot two of them.

And she used to be so short back then. Good thing she had a growth spurt, he added.

"Gimme that!" Shelly snatched the picture from Stan's hands. She took a quick look at it and grumped, before crumpling it and throwing it into a trash bin near her bed.

"Why did you do that?" Stan asked.

"No point in living in the past." She threw the farm portrait into the bin as well.

Stan quickly got the message. Apparently, Shelly still had hard feelings regarding her early teens. The headgear and the farm were two of the things she took a lot of time to get over.

He wanted to say something, but chose not to reopen any old wounds and went back to work.

Half an hour later, the room was all tidy. Tired, but content, Stan leaned against the wall and sat on the floor. Shelly also stayed put in the middle of the room for a moment, contemplating the job done. Afterwards, she turned to her brother in curiosity.

"Hey, turd." That caught Stan's attention.

Well, there it is, Stan thought. "What?"

"Why did you do this? You're not always this helpful, especially to me."

Stan searched for the words inside his mind. "Well, I... just wanted to thank you for helping me out last night. Guess I was pretty low back then. And for watching over me this morning."

"I wasn't watching!" Shelly rebutted, defensively.

"Shelly."

Seeing that Stan didn't buy her tough act, she sighed in defeat.

"Fine. Then let's call it even. And not talk about this again."

Stan smiled, satisfied. Despite Shelly not wanting to continue the conversation and subject herself to further bashfulness, her mannerisms spoke enough to him.

"Why the hell are you smiling?!" She questioned, in a slightly loud tone.

"I just feel like smiling, that's all."

She looked away in annoyance. "Pfft. Little turd." She then walked to the doorway and stopped. "I'm going down. You coming?"

"Yeah, I'm coming."

With his answer, Shelly went downstairs, leaving Stan alone in her room, still smiling.