“Don’t open the door unless it’s Uncle Boris or his friend,” I told Noah, emptying the coffeepot into my mug. “You cool with that?”
“I’m not a child,” he replied, offering me a look of genuine disgust. “I’ll be in second grade soon.”
“Okay, seeing as you’re an adult, you go ahead and finish up out here. Make sure I haven’t missed something,” I replied. “I’ll wash up fast.”
I shut the door and pulled off my clothes. The room was small, but at least we had a tub. Unfortunately, the hot-water situation wasn’t too great—one of the joys of living on the top floor of a building with shared boilers. I showered quickly, grabbing a towel as I stepped out, dripping all over my dirty laundry. I dried off and wrapped the towel around my head before reaching for my clean clothes. They weren’t there
