Raven was still loading cans of soda and bottles of brightly-colored alcopop into her fridge when the doorbell rang. She cast a glance at the microwave oven’s time display and concluded that it must be her sister — Gail always arrived early, while the rest of her expected guests had long since accepted that Raven was never, ever ready on time. She stuck the last sixpack into the fridge, opened a bottle of alcoholic starflower fruit soda against the edge of the kitchen counter, and went to get the door, hips swaying in her tight black mid-thigh skirt.
True enough, it was her sister at the door, dressed in her usual almost prudish, old-fashioned manner, though with her wavy light brown hair hanging loose across her shoulders rather than tied back in some manner as was usually the case. The younger woman frowned slightly and pushed past her sister into the apartment. “You’re always late, Raven, even opening the door. And drinking already?”