Curled inside my polka dot sleeping bag, I hid underneath the dining room table reading.
Momma said I would catch a cold lying on the floor, but the furnace warmed the air, and I was comfortable.
Santa brought me a whole stack of books.
He brought my little sister a huge stack too.
Even though I was two years, nine months and seven days older, everyone—even Santa—treated us like twins and assumed we enjoyed the same things.
My sister would never read her new books.
So really I got a double stack of books, and she got shortchanged.
Grace Grits and Gardening
Farm. Food. Garden. Life.
This was written for Write Tribe 100 Words on Saturday Prompt #1 – My Little Sister.
(This is also a snippet from my book, reworked to fit the prompt.)