Claire looked up, her hair messy and her cheeks flushed. "No," she said, pulling Mia closer. "Everything is finally messy."
As she reached for the flour, she saw her reflection in the polished chrome of the toaster. She didn’t recognize the woman looking back. The eyes were tired, framed by fine lines she had spent a fortune trying to erase. Une mГЁre parfaite
Claire didn't bake the muffins. Instead, she sat on the kitchen floor. Claire looked up, her hair messy and her cheeks flushed