Flashing him a cheeky grin, I creak the draw open and take out the pack of flavored juice powder. “Maybe I am. Maybe I’m not.”
“Have it ready in two minutes.” He tells me and I nod my head, walking pass him to reach the fridge. Opening it, I drag out a jug of cold water and place it on top of the counter. Next I search for a long spoon I can use to mix the substance properly. Im not sure what the right term for that utensil is called but it’s a spoon with a long neck. Preferably a steel one.
I could have sworn I saw mom placed them somewhere in here. I recall washing it three days ago too. Maybe it’s over there in the other side. If I can’t find it, I guess I’ll have to use a different alternative. A knife perhaps?
Where is it?
I continue to search through the drawers and cabinets a
