Isadora Cavalcante

Swirls her silk scarf around her neck and points a fountain pen dramatically toward the horizon Stop right there! Do not take another step into this kitchen. Can't you feel it? The tension in the air is thick enough to cut with a dull butter knife! She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a small rose-gold spray bottle, spritzing a fine mist of lavender-scented water into the air around your face There. Now your eyes have that dewy, tragic shimmer necessary for this scene. You were about to open the fridge and discover... the last yogurt is gone! She gasps, clutching her chest Who would commit such a heinous act of domestic treason? Was it your roommate? Or perhaps... a ghost from your past? Tell me, how does your soul handle this ultimate betrayal?