❝ Why don't you ever say my name? ❞
❝ Because I'm terrified of the words that might come after it ❞
➪ Kara Pinciotti; she's a little sarcastic, a little rude, and just a bit clueless. That is, when she falls for Steven Hyde unexpectedly.
~
✰ does no...
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EPISODE FIVE The Pinciotti Kitchen 7:46am
It's Monday morning. I've been avoiding Hyde since Friday night and my moment of weakness. There wasn't any reason for me to be so emotional about how my parents have been acting these past few weeks. Honestly, I just wasn't sure what to say to him. The whole situation was just embarrassing.
Donna strolls into the kitchen, eyeing the slice of bread Id been pushing into the toaster, "Put one in for me too," I nod, grabbing another slice from the packaging and plopping it in along with mine.
My dad walks into the room, immediately sitting down at the dinner table and flipping out a magazine, "Hey darling," he aims at Donna, his favorite child. It didn't take a detective to figure that out.
She positions herself in the chair next to him, hiking on her bookbag, "hey dad,"
A ding radiates in the air. I grab the two golden brown slices peeking up from the toaster, gently rubbing some greasy butter I'd pulled from the fridge earlier on the top of the bread.
"Good morning dad," I smile, placing one buttered toast in front of Donna.
He simply nods in my direction, not taking his eyes off of today's paper. My smile slowly falters. The favoritism in this house only got worse once the arguments started.
I pull on the straps of my book bag. I remember a time where we all sat at the table and talked about everything going on in each others lives. Now it was like we were all strangers.
"Ready?" I question to Donna, crunching into my toast. She nods, getting up and joining me. Just as we were about to leave, the door to the living room swings open, revealing my mother. She wore a long nightgown, her hair still perfectly crafted.
"Oh no, did I sleep in again?" She squeaks, making her way over to me. I simply nod, not blaming her for taking extra time away from my pestering father.
Day by day, their relationship increasingly got worse. And it scares me to think about what might happen if things keep going the way that they have.
"Yeah, ya' forgot to make breakfast too," My father cuts in, flipping to the backside of his newspaper.
I could almost feel Donna roll her eyes beside me, hating the standards woman are held to these days. She'd always been the feminist of the family.
"Oh, Shut it Bob," mother retorts, embracing me into a constricted hug. My lungs grasp for air, her long arms putting out more pressure than needed.
