Boreas ogled me knitting his grey, shaggy eyebrows. My naked skin crawled. I hated this, but it was better than ironing his creepy snake feet.
“Why must I do this, you old pervert?”
“Because, Orithyia,” he leered, “I enjoy watching you knit clothes that I’ll never let you wear.”
“Good! I’d sooner blow my brains out!”
“So dramatic!” tutted Boreas. “Makes no difference to me.”
The phone rang.
“Yes!” I barked into the receiver. “Oh, hello Mum. Of course.” My voice softened. “Pete and I can order pizza for you. No, we’re not busy. Nothing interesting ever happens during lockdown!”