"I'm not washing the floors today. It's your turn.' I snap at her and catch the fleeting little smile on her face because she knows I'm all hot air, and her threats are empty too. We've developed this bickering, married couple aura these past two weeks.

"You're shit at it anyway. You can clean the toilets instead." She adds with an airy tone, and I blanche and spin back to stare at her in wide-eyed disgust.

"I'll wash every floor. I'll try harder." I backtrack and return to silently cleaning, eyeing her up, and murmuring instead. She's a slave laborer and a scary bitch sometimes, and she would make me...