It sounded like a thunderstorm was trapped upstairs.
“Is your housemate alright?” her mother asked as something dropped for the fourth time that morning.
“She’s fine. Just running late,” she said as she wrapped a sandwich in grease proof paper. She packed it into a bag as her housemate thundered down the stairs.
She held out the bag. “Morning. Breakfast.”
Her housemate flew out of the house like she always did.
“Is this normal?” her mother asked, looking frazzled just from watching her housemate.
She shrugged. “You get used to it. Here. Have some tea.”