Claire groaned as sunlight pierced through the living room curtains, forcing her to squint and mutter incoherently. Her hair was a tangled mess, and she looked like she'd just rolled out of bed after a week-long nap.
The sound of the front door slamming shut jolted her awake. She sat up sluggishly, glancing toward the door. Probably Lukas. Shrugging, she flopped back onto the couch, pulling a blanket over her head.
Her stomach growled loudly, breaking the silence. Claire groaned again, dragging herself off the couch. As she stumbled into the kitchen, her eyes landed on the fridge. With a faint flicker of hope, she opened it—only to freeze in horror.
The fridge was empty.
Claire fell to her knees, clutching the fridge door like it was a lifeline. "I guess I could wait for Lukas to come back…" she mumbled. Then she frowned. "No. It's the weekend. He won't be back until dark. Besides, I'm a strong, independent, beautiful woman. I can get food myself!"
With renewed determination, she stood up. Heading for the door, she caught sight of herself in the windows reflection. Her clothes were a wrinkled, stained mess. She frowned. "Since when were these so dirty? I swear I did laundry yesterday…"
Yesterday.
Her mind flashed back to the conversation.
"Lukeeeee!"
"What?"
"Since you're doing laundry, how about you throw my stuff in as well?"
"Do it yourself."
"C'mon!"
"No. Do it yourself. After mine's done."
"Fine."
Except she hadn't done it.
She sighed, heading to Lukas's room. After rummaging through his wardrobe, she emerged wearing clothes twice her size. The baggy hoodie and sweatpants made her look like a child playing dress-up, but she didn't care.
On her way to the store, she bumped into Stephan. He gave her an amused look. "Oh, hi. Uh… Claire, right?"
"Hey," she replied flatly.
"What's up?" he asked, falling into step beside her.
"Going to the store."
"Mind if I tag along?"
"Okay."
Stephan tried to make conversation as they walked, but Claire's monotone replies left him visibly annoyed. "You're surprisingly… dry, y'know that?"
"Mhmm."
After a few more failed attempts, Stephan sighed in defeat. "You know what? I think I'll just go on ahead. Goodbye, Claire."
Grinning to herself, Claire watched him quicken his pace and disappear around a corner.
Back home, she unpacked her groceries. Eggs, cheese, bacon. "This is a fine breakfast… for Americans," she muttered.
But as she stood in the kitchen, ready to cook, a horrifying realization struck her. She didn't know how to cook.
"Well, how hard can it be?" she said, shaking off her doubts. "Just throw it all in some oil, right?"
It was harder than she thought.
Ten minutes later, Claire stared at the charred mess on her plate. The bacon was burnt to a crisp, the eggs were overcooked and discolored, and the cheese had fused into a strange, lumpy mass.
Defeated, she sat at the table, poking at her creation with a fork. The sound of the front door opening made her perk up. Lukas walked in, looking slightly disheveled.
"Morning," he said casually.
Claire's eyes lit up. She practically sprinted toward him, throwing herself against his chest. "Please, Luke. I'm hungry… It feels like I haven't eaten in days."
Lukas raised an eyebrow. "Didn't you order pizza yesterday?. Wait are those my clothes?"
"Shut up and make me something to eat," she whined.
He sighed, heading into the kitchen. When he saw the disaster she'd created, he froze. "What… is that?"
"Food."
Lukas turned back to her. "Then my job here is done. Anyway, Soren's waiting for me outside. Goodbye!"
"Wait—"
Before she could stop him, he was out the door. She stood there, staring at the closed door. "He just left. He left me here to rot. Without food…"
With a dramatic sigh, Claire flopped onto the couch. After a long pause, she grabbed her phone and ordered a pizza.
When it arrived, she ate the entire thing in one sitting. (Fattie)