By Jen Cole
Copyright 2012 Jen Cole
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Angela sank onto the lumpy couch, her eyes prickling. The box beside her tilted and righted itself with a tiny whimper.
“Quiet.” She’d meant the word to come out sternly, but it barely passed her lips. Just one more thing to take care of. She drew an unsteady breath, remembering Sam’s face as he’d headed off to school. Guilt was the final straw.
If she hadn’t been so angry about the damned ring, she wouldn’t have shouted at him this morning, on his birthday, of all days. Sam knew he’d done the wrong thing, though. He’d used his birthday to try to get around her. Now it was clear why he’d been washing the neighbors’ cars and running errands for so long.