Bump! I slam close the refrigerator, leaving a cracky blaring tune.
I pull an ugly face while sniffing at her box of milk.
It's morning, and yet she hasn't digressed shower. Ayla spends forever in the shower, scrubbing clean and watering warmly under the running tape. Who thinks about nature?
"When did you buy the milk?"
I ask furiously, frowning.
She jumps out