Sophia is at the Door

I knew that voice, it belonged to Sophia.

“Y-yes!” I answered, scrambling to put these clothes on, “Is something up?”

“I just wanted to know if you finished unpacking?”

“Unpacking?” I repeated, struggling with this god forsakened bra, “Y-yeah! I’m done!” I opened the door, giving my daughter an awkward smile.

Sophia stood on the other side, a small smile on her face. That smile slowly vanished as she took in the state I was in. Allison looked thrown together a bit now, socks discarded, bra and panties haphazardly thrown on, pants and shirt not looking fully on either. I wouldn’t be surprised if I messed up her hair in the process of getting dressed again.

Sophia shook her head, her red strands almost dancing from the movement, she sighed, “Geez, you couldn’t even wait until I got back, could you?”

I swallowed, not sure what to say. I loved Sophia, she was my own flesh and blood, but she got some things from her mother that I didn’t appreciate. One of those things was how she got an attitude whenever someone did something that annoyed her, and no one could figure out what exactly it was that annoyed her to no end.

“I’m sorr-” I began, just wanting this to be over.

Sophia brought a finger to my lips to shush me. There was a glint in her eyes, a mischievous light. “It’s alright,” she began.