Aliyah's POV

“Lia, pass me the flour,” Tracy said.

She was grinding flour, trying to make doughs for the picnic.

After another contemplation, we decided to go on a picnic instead. We'd sit on a wrapper in the grass, and watch scenery with shades on.

I grabbed the flour from the counter where it was placed, and handed it to Tracy. But before she could stretch her hand to reach it, a sharp pain cut through my palm and I was forced to let go of the bowl of flour.

The bowl made a loud ...