Yua sprawled across her bed. The late afternoon sun slanted through her curtains in lazy golden bars.
She was home, alone. The house was hers until dinner. Her parents were out. She had kicked off her shoes at the door, dumped her bag, and flopped here. She felt restless. Cooking club lingered in her mind. New recipes and senior's smug tips stuck with her. Her mind wouldn't settle. Her worn cookbook, a gift from her dad years back, lay open beside her. Its pages were creased from use.