A loud groan reverberated around the living room as I lay, unmoving on the carpeted floor. I rested my hands on my protruding belly as I felt another bout of queasiness consume me.
'Elaine,' I wheezed out, hearing a muffled grunt in response, 'I think I'm going to puke.'
A few moments of silence passed as I felt the numerous types of junk food protest against each other in my stomach. Elaine was curled up in a foetal position, her arm extended out with a half-eaten stick of liquorice sitting in her open palm. She reluctantly lifted her head to look at me.
'Please don't do it on mum's Persian rug.'
***