Jake and Jane sat in the study room, absorbed in their books. Carl sprawled on the living room couch, scribbling in a notebook, while Carly padded downstairs, her damp hair tied in a messy bun as she tapped at her phone to order food.
"Ugh…" Carly groaned, clutching her stomach. "What is this hunger? Feels like my eyes are about to pop out of my skull." She flopped onto the couch beside Carl, peering over his shoulder. "What're you always writing?"
"Letters. That become words. That become sentences." Carl didn't look up. "That become something else."
"Crazy. That's what you are." Carly wrinkled her nose and retreated to the opposite couch. "Hate writing anyway. Barely even survive taking notes in class."
"Hate drawing too, y'know," Carl shot back.
"Nah, just admit you can't draw." Carly grinned, swinging her legs onto the coffee table.
Carl's pen froze. He lifted his head slowly. "Just admit you can't write."
"Who doesn't know how to write, for crying out loud?"
