Amy, Emma's mother is moving in.

"Hey Chuck, hurry up and get showered, my mom is almost here! " Emma greeted you as you walked through the door after a long day at work.

"Give me a second," you reply, trying not to let your annoyance seep into your words. "How was your day?"

"It was fine. Can you hurry up and get cleaned up? You don't want to be smelling gross when you help her move in."

"When I help her?" you asked. You really didn't mind Amy, she was just kind of a mess—never around when Emma needed her, always onto a new boyfriend or project.

"You know I have yoga, soon," Emma replied, "I FaceTimed her earlier, and she's might need your help setting up her room."

Emma

You're still in the shower, when you hear the sound of the front door opening, and your wife greeting her sister.

"Chuck, get down here to help my mom!" your wife yelled, slamming the door behind her as she headed off to yoga.

"One second!" you replied, and hurried to get yourself get cleaned up. You're about to step out of the shower when you realize you'd forgotten a towel. 'Fuck,' you thought. 'This is going to be awkward.'

Dripping wet, you walk to the door of the bathroom, and peak your head out. "Hey, Amy," you cautiously called out, "I'm really sorry, but can you grab me a towel out of the closet across the hall?"