(At Stephanie’s House)

The burnt aroma of beans on the gas snapped Stephanie out of her thoughts. She zoomed into the kitchen.

“Oh my God, I’m dead, I'm dead!” she moaned, snatching the pot off the gas. Pattering feet ran toward her.

“Oh, not again, dear. What were you thinking about this time?” her mother asked, shoving her gently aside and handling the mess.

With slumped shoulders, Stephanie returned to the sitting room and plopped onto a chair. Her mother joined her a moment later.

“Are you worried about your boss? Is he the one you’re thinking of?”

Stephanie scrunched her face. Could her mother not try to create smoke...