“Anna shall I wash yours up too?” Kim bellowed from the kitchen.
“My what?” Anna screamed back.
“I’m doing the dishes!” Kim heard a large thud as if her flatmate had fallen out of her bed still wrapped in her duvet, then, a rustling as she belted it down the stairs.
“No!” Anna screamed, messy hair covering her face as she slammed the kitchen door open.
“Why not?” Kim asked. Anna pulled back her hair, wide eyes surveying her pile of dirty dishes.
“If you clean them then I will have no excuse not to cook,” Anna huffed, glaring at the dishes with a mix of love and hate.
“Is your plan to just never cook?” Kim asked laughing.
“Of course not… at least, not until I’ve run out of money to order pizza.”