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It was at my grandfather’s wake, staring at the plate of sticky brown cake, when I realised nothing was as it seemed.
“Oh shit! Quick! Hide!”
They sat and stared at each other – maybe not with actual loathing, but pretty close to it. Close enough that the air between them began to charge and shimmer, each of them willing the other to give in, skulk away morosely and noisily bang cupboards for a while. Connie knew that that was going to have to be her, that she’d have to finally succumb and stalk off lest she risk brain implosion from the ceaseless glare that was boring into her sanity. She had to break contact, she had to, but dammit, that meant giving in to this freakin’ pineapple that had materialised unbidden on her dining table and she was not about to lose a glare-off to a piece of tropical fruit.