Ma'anar ƙamus na kalmar "firiji" suna ne da ke nufin kayan aiki na gida da ake amfani da su don adana abinci da abin sha a cikin ƙananan zafin jiki don hana su lalacewa. Cikakken nau'in "firiji" shine firiji.
Cereal from cardboard boxes, milk from the fridge, bread baked and sliced in a bakery, browned in a toaster, life here was never so easy.
I rolled my eyes, my face chilling in the open fridge.
Nami extracted herself from the inside of the fridge.
Without a second thought I down the last of the orange juice in the fridge, straight from the carton.
When I open the fridge, the level of milk and juice look about the same and there is no food to be taken, just a near empty jar of artichoke hearts, another of pimientos in oil, and a half-used bottle of passata.
I opened the fridge and noted how little food there was.
I traipsed through the rooms, stripping beds and attending to dollops of this and that stuck fast to walls and floors, to the handprints on the windows, the grime on the stove, the orange juice that had leaked in the fridge, and the hairs in the shower.
He leaves the remains of his pumpernickel on his plate, and goes to the fridge and pours himself a glass of tonic water.
I lift Tibbles off my lap and go to the fridge, hoping a glass of milk might make me sleepy.
How many beers could I make fly from the fridge to my spot on the couch?
