-MIA-
"Are you jam?" I asked aloud in the empty kitchen.
I’ve been alone so much lately that talking to myself has officially become a thing.
It was late afternoon, and I was squinting at the label of a fancy jar I found in Asher’s pantry. I gave Anna the day off and was left alone to fetch myself dinner.
After the disaster when I used the kitchen the other day, the last thing I want is to cook something in this house.
So, peanut butter and jam sandwiches were on the menu today.
As soon as I figure out if this label—in what looks to be a Slavic language—says "Jam."
I twisted the lid before taking a sniff. "Please don’t be caviar. I hate that smell."
"Do you usually talk to the food?" Asher’s voice cut through the silence behind me, deep and amused.
I shrieked. "God! You sc
