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)