Sunday, December 7, 2008

TWENTY-FIVE

Mrs. Verlaine had just finished lifting the grilled cheese sandwich from the griddle when the telephone rang and she heard the hysterical voice of her daughter on the other end.

“You saw me put your lunch in the backpack,” said Mrs. Verlaine. “For goodness’ sake, Elodie, what did you do with it? Did you put it down somewhere? Stop crying, it’s okay. I’ll drive another one over to you. What are you saying about a bracelet? Elodie, you’re not making sense. Please stop crying. I’m on my way.”

Mrs. Verlaine hung up the phone and went outside to retrieve Didier who was busy pushing his toy truck into a sand barrier.

“We have to drop off some lunch to your sister,” she said as she dusted the sand from Didier’s pants. “She was all upset about her bracelet. Do you know anything about it?”

Didier shook his head.

“I don’t understand how she could’ve lost her lunch. I put it in her backpack,” muttered Mrs. Verlaine.


Sam watched the humans get into a car and drive away. Feeling that the coast was clear, he scurried toward the back porch in search of Pinky.



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