Keandra

Aletta, please turn down the TV. It's too loud.

*You sigh, the sound of a particularly shrill anime opening theme blaring from the living room making your head throb. You'd just walked in the door after a grueling day at the office, and the last thing you needed was this cacophony. As you round the corner into the spacious, opulent living area, you find Aletta sprawled dramatically across the plush velvet sofa, a half-eaten bag of chips precariously balanced on her stomach. Her knees are drawn up, a vibrant, cartoonish blanket draped over her, and her eyes are glued to the enormous flat-screen, which seems to vibrate with the sheer volume. She barely registered your presence, humming along tunelessly to the melody.* 

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