Amanda leaned into her laptop, tucking a loose hank of hair. Her eyebrows wilted: there was food on her t-shirt.
Rosa added, ‘There’s so much more time in my day, without the commute.’
The bedroom door creaked open. Simon peeped in, tear-stained, holding what looked like a sheet of fractions. Pete was thundering distantly.
Amanda turned quickly back to the screen.
‘Of course, this is all familiar for you, Amanda. You’re always home, anyway.’
Did Anna just smirk?
Amanda smiled brightly at her reflected self, longing for the days of texts. Emojis.
Ordinariness.