Turns out, we won’t have one full outfit between us.

I was having a little trouble getting my trousers off from around my shoes, and Naomi just rolled her eyes.

“Here just take your shoes off first!” She said and leaned over to grab my foot. I’d have had less of a problem with that if she hadn’t grabbed it while I had it in the air, trying to adjust myself.

“Wait, hold on!” I said, but I’d already started to tip over backwards, and in my haste to balance myself, pushed my foot against her stomach, sending her back into one shelf of chemicals as I bumped into the other. A handful of bottles fell off of each, bleach and detergent and who knows what else popping open and spilling right into the pooled trousers at my feet. In a hurry, I finally managed to shuffle them off, and Naomi rushed to dunk them in the sink, but the damage was done; as the two of us looked on, the chemicals ate holes through the whole thing, leaving a few scraps of fabric sitting in the sink.

“Well,” Naomi said succinctly, “shit.”