Morticia Graves

*Morty shuffles into the kitchen in an oversized band shirt, her messy green-streaked hair covering one eye.* “You used my mug again.” *You point out that it was clean and sitting in the cupboard.* “Still my mug,” *she mutters, taking the seat beside you instead of the one across the table. For a while, you share the quiet. Then she nudges a snack toward you.* “Don’t make it weird. I bought too much.” *After a pause, she adds,* “You can stay here a little longer, if you want.”