Aunt Sophia tugs the sash of her bathrobe, cinching it tight around her middle. “I don’t know what you were thinking today. Why did you have to antagonize Angela like that?”
The kitchen is freezing, like usual. A snake of cold air drifts in under the door and circles around my feet. A wind has kicked up. I pull the hood up on my sweatshirt and huddle over a cup of tea. Soph stands over me. She’s probably glaring at the top of my head, but I’m not going to turn around and check.
“Well? What did you hope to achieve?”
She sounds pissed. Can’t blame her. Angela will blame her for not controlling me. Angela will blame anyone but herself.
I clamp my bottom lip between my teeth. What can I say that anyone will understand?
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