“Christina, can't we just have something simple for once?" Danielle winced as the stack of pans clattered to the floor, exacerbating her already simmering headache. The kitchen smelled faintly of lemon and something on the edge of burning—never a great sign this early in the morning.
“And be BORING? I think not,” Christina said, grinning like a mad scientist. She picked up the mess with unshaken enthusiasm, flour streaked on her cheek like a battle scar. “Where’s that cookbook?”
Danielle rubbed her temples, leaning her elbows on the kitchen counter. She hadn’t even finished her tea yet, and Christina was already summoning chaos like it was a breakfast ritual. “I’m just saying… pancakes are simple. Pancakes are safe. You can’t set pancakes on fire.”
Christina popped up from behind the is
