No sooner had I opened the kitchen door than she was there, leaning against the stainless steel front of my refrigerator. “Just vhere do you sink you ah govink?” she demands.
I lift my brows at her newly-acquired accent, sounding as she does like the love child of Colonel Klink and The Terminator.
“What’s with the accent?” I ask in all innocence, though I am not at all surprised by her latest foray into mad behaviour.
“Aggzent?” She asks, bewildered. “Vaht aggzent?”
I sigh. There is no point in pressing the issue. “Never mind,” I say, hoping she has forgot her question.
“So vhat ah you doink in ze kitchen, zen?”
“Nothin’,” I lie, tucking my empty Pinot Grigio glass behind my back and trying to look casual.
I can feel the heat of her glare from behind her black ski goggles…
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