“There is a tree in my foot.” my sister said; hobbling in the doorway and making for the first aid box.
“What happened?” I asked, hand hovering over the T.V’s mute button as I turned towards the kitchen.
“I was attacked!” she grumbled. “The ground attacked me!”
“Oh really?” I said. “I don’t suppose your bike was the one to start it all?”
There was no answer.
“I mean really—”
I stood in the doorway; her holding the first aid box in both hands.
“That won’t be much help.” I said at last. “I’ll get the pruning shears from the shed.”