The skies were tinted with blues and grays. A contrast of watercolors blended with no in-between. Each drop, pattering against the windowpanes, had been fixed last month. With a hoodie bigger than life, Hana tottered into the kitchen, wrenching open the refrigerator. Big, brown orbs scanned the contents of the fridge. A furrow on her soft eyebrows, the ever-present pout on soft plush, pink lips. “We’re out of milk.” She huffed, closing the door to the creaking refrigerator, trudging towards the cupboard in her bunny slippers. Reaching for the ramen packets, she only found herself with the hollow packet. Turning around to the lump on the couch, she huffed. “Really? Again? You are not a child! I do not have to clean up after you! Ugh!”