Samantha entered the kitchen and frowned. "Weren't there...boxes?" She frowned. The kitchen no longer looked bare. She opened up the cabinet and began pulling out plates and cups and setting the kitchen table.
She didn't think much about it as she laid down more than three places. She tried to not think about Stacy, and found her mind wandering to her best friend and her upcoming date.
It was certainly more pleasant to think about than the other problem in her life. As she tried to imagine how she was going to get ready, she began to look more like a 16-year old version of Stacy, except with brown as opposed to blond hair.
She finished setting the table, and thought she heard a car pulling up. "That must be Mom...finally," she said.
