Twenty-TwoUpon opening the door, I moved quickly to my left to allow Peter, heavily laden with grocery bags, into the apartment. He moved swiftly toward the kitchen, one of the bags tearing with the weight of its contents, but he managed to get it onto the table just as it split open.
“That was close,” I said as a number of cans tumbled out. One made its way to the edge of the table, but Peter snatched it quickly before it fell off, and he set it up right.
“I'll go get the last of the bags,” he huffed, his face almost as red as his hair. He'd managed to carry six bags himself while I jostled only half as many.
I started unpacking the bags and organized the items on the table, apart from the refrigerated stuff; I wasn't quite sure where everything was going.
I had only just finished unp
