The living room was a riot of noise and fries. Netflix blared some action movie nobody was really watching, something about spies and exploding helicopters.
The coffee table was buried under greasy burger wrappers, open beer bottles, and a half-empty box of fries that Melissa kept stealing from, even though she swore she was 'done eating.'
Alistair sat sprawled across the rug, his long legs blocking the path to the kitchen, his focus completely on his phone, scrolling like the world depended on it, until Melissa threw a fry at him.
"Hey!" he yelped, catching it midair. "Assault!"
"I could be at the club right now, sipping martinis," Melissa said, flicking another fry in his direction for emphasis, "but I chose family bonding night. The least you could do is get off your boring phone." She leaned back into the couch, dramatic as ever, her socked feet resting on the coffee table.
