“So how’d you manage all this?”
She shrugged, “Jam jars, cups with broken handles. Whatever was left.”
A particularly gritty droplet slapped against her bare shoulder and rolled through the caked on dust and sweat.
“You know, I could fix it for you, easy.”
With her foot, she nudged a headless gnome, half filled with water, toward the center of a newly formed puddle. With practiced ease, she flung the contents of a rusty teakettle through the closest window, abruptly drenching a sickly shrub. From her place among the crockery, she beamed up at him,
“Whatever for?”