The open suitcase lies on the floor. Her head’s stuck in the wardrobe, she’s throwing items of clothing in the general direction of the carry-on. Shorts, bikini tops and sundresses litter her bed.

‘You can’t leave.’

‘I’ve booked my flight. Jilly’s expecting me.’

She darts out, almost slips on a flip-flop and collects a print-out from the desk. Her plane ticket.

‘Please,’ I plead. ‘I’ll stop treating you like a child.’

She scoops up the mess and dumps it into the suitcase.

‘Remember what you said when you moved out? We’ll finally get on. I’m only returning the favour, love.’

*****

(loosely based on the prompt of this week’s 100 word challenge for grown-ups)