My sister’s attempt at baking has transformed our kitchen into what could be charitably described as a ‘flour-based crime scene.’ Her cheerful insistence that ‘it’s all part of the process’ is at odds with the visual evidence of a butter explosion on the ceiling. Meanwhile, I have been tasked with locating a missing whisk via sheer deductive logic, a far more intellectually stimulating exercise than her chaotic confectionery ambitions. The neighbor’s house remains suspiciously quiet. I suspect they are wisely avoiding the fallout zone. (Photo: a blurry, chaotic shot of a kitchen counter covered in flour, batter splatters, and a single, perfectly pristine manga volume placed safely out of harm’s way.)