Through the kitchen into a side room, the air powdered white. Ghostly figures moving about in a flurry.
“Anoush?” Sophia calls.
“Digin Sophia!” Anoush says, stepping forward and pushing her hair back with her wrist, “I didn’t see you come in!” Behind her, at a low table the Pests are busy at work. One is sifting vast mountains of flour, the other is spreading it across the table thin as a sheet, and the littlest is elbow-deep in dough. Their whole corner is powdered white. As soon as they see them, the girls hurtle over, their clammy hands looking for love. Quicker than them, Sophia does a swift sidestep and with a pirouette, leads them to the sink.
“Where’s Mariam?” she asks.
“Finding eyes.”
“And Bahie?”
“Teeth.”
“And Baby Lousaper?”
“They were all here a minute ago,” Anoush shrug
