5/26/2023 0 Comments Emma lord tweet cute![]() ![]() I raise my hand to touch my own, and end up streaking the Monster Cake batter all the way down them as Paige winces. She raises a disbelieving eyebrow, then mimes sweeping at her bangs. ![]() ![]() “Under control,” I say, giving her a thumbs-up. I stare at it for a moment, somehow still not quite used to the staggering view even though we’ve been here nearly four years. I grab the stepladder from the pantry to shut off the fire alarm, then open all the windows to our twenty-sixth-floor apartment, where the Upper East Side sprawls out beneath my feet-all the scores of towering buildings with their bright lights burning even long after anyone in their right mind should be asleep. I pull the oven open, and another whoosh of smoke comes out, revealing some seriously blackened Monster Cake. “Nope,” I mutter, crossing the kitchen to shut the oven off, “just my life.” The other half of the screen is currently occupied by the Great Expectations essay I have written and rewritten enough times that Charles Dickens is probably rolling in his grave. ![]() I lower the screen of my laptop down, where my older sister Paige’s now scowling face is taking up half the screen on a Skype call from UPenn. To be fair, when the alarm goes off, there’s barely even any smoke rising out of the oven. ![]()
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