overflowing with their clothes.
I stepped over it.
Hours later Harper came downstairs and nearly tripped over the same basket.
“Why didn’t you put this in the wash?”
I watered a plant.
“Because it’s your laundry.”
“I don’t have any clean yoga pants.”
“The washing machine works.”
She glanced at the laundry room.
“You’ll need detergent, though. Mine is in my room.”
I kept watering my plants.
Harper stood there looking at me as though some essential household service had been unexpectedly discontinued.
In a way, it had.
For months,
