ELENA
I sat on the rug that Joanna's brother had gifted her on the Christmas last year, ignoring how she threw daggers at me for using it to my liking when she had hidden it in a closet.
Borrowing or maybe snatching her favourite pyjama shorts and a Beatles t-shirt, I sat cross-legged on the rug with my laptop in front of me and the bunch of scattered papers around.
A plate of cookies, one of nachos, one glass of plain water and another one of cold coffee lay there empty while I read the screen carefully.
I groaned for the thirteenth time in the past hour in frustration.
"I cannot focus here! God, I am starving! Joanna, please feed me something or I wouldn't be able to concentrate here.
Get me a sandwich or maybe pasta... we can order pizzas for the dinner with-"
"ELENA!!!" She shrieked in annoyance, and I clamped my mouth shut.
I blinked, not understanding why she was so annoyed.
