When Carlo got home, the kitchen was destroyed and Bri’s homework littered the kitchen table. This didn’t happen often, but Carlo’s appetite got the better of him. He was easily hangered. A beer and piece of summer sausage would have to do.
He could hear music coming from the bathroom above him the entire time. Was she taking a bath? This made him only more irate, as he started to handwash the pots and pants, munching on a piece of sliced cheese.
“Bullshit.”, he muttered to himself, tossing down the sponge and steering towards the stairs. He ascended, his footsteps heavy. He wasn’t no string bean. The new day job has put a couple pounds of fat on him, but he still had the build of a college athlete. Carlo tried the door on the bathroom. It opened.
The lights were off and red candles adorned the tub’s perimeter. Carlo aggressively flipped them on. Bri was indeed taking a bath. Her head had been laid back, but she looked up puzzled. “Can I help you?”, she asked flatly raising one eyebrow.