“Kathrine, I need you to go and get 100 euros from your bank!”

I whine, look up from my computer. “I don’t want to! Why should I?”

She sticks her head around the door. My childish mind can’t see the extra lines on her face, the dark smears under her eyes, her greasy hair that hadn’t been washed since the day that the banks shut down.

“Because your father and I have already taken out our money for the day, and we have Francis’s hospital bills to pay for! Not to mention the fact that the cupboards are bare, and the price of food has rocketed! Now go!”

I sigh, slouch, and slump out the door.


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