Sharon stands in the kitchen, hands hovered over the sink. Washing the dishes, like usual after their dinner. Gripping the sponge, scrubbing stubbornly at the porcelain of the plate, making sure every inch of food, scraps or not, is off the plate.

Sharon sighs, washing up the final dish. Her back straightens, stretching the tension in her lower back away. She exhales, she's getting a tad too old for this.