I was never very neat, while my roommate Kate was extremely organized. Each of her objects had its place, but mine always hid somewhere. She even labeled ( ) everything. I always looked for everything. Over time, Kate got neater and I got messier. She would push my dirty clothing over, and I would lay my books on her tidy desk. We both got tired of each other. War broke out one evening. Kate came into the room. Soon, I heard her screaming, "Take your shoes away! Why under my bed!" Deafened, I saw my shoes flying at me. I jumped to my feet and started yelling. She yelled back louder. The room was filled with anger. We could not have stayed together for a single minute but for a phone call. Kate answered it. From her end of the conversation, I could tell right away her grandma was seriously ill. When she hung up, she quickly crawled ( ) under her covers, sobbing. Obviously, that was something she should not go through alone. All of a sudden, a warm feeling of sympathy rose up in my heart. Slowly, I collected the pencils, took back the books, made my bed, cleaned the socks and swept the floor, even on her side. I got so into my work that I even didn't notice Kate had sat up.   She was watching, her tears dried and her expression one of disbelief. Then, she reached out her hands to grasp mine. I looked up into her eyes. She smiled at me. "Thanks." Kate and I stayed roommates for the rest of the year. We didn't always agree, but we learned   the key to living together: giving in cleaning up and holding on. The author tidied up the room most probably because   _  .
she was scared by Kate's anger she hated herself for being so messy she wanted to show her care she was asked by Kate to do so