“I didn’t break it.” His gleaming eyes were huge white discs with a brown center, the black so small it nearly vanished. In his hands were the pieces of Mother’s favorite vase, the chunks only half of the mess at his feet.
“Yes, he did,” I countered, staring up at our mother with the same wide-eyed innocence that he was trying to project.
“Lee,” Mother said with a sigh, disappointment transforming into rage as she glared at him. “Why do you always do this?”
“But I didn’t!” Lee whined, cowering beneath Mother’s growing anger.
“Did too!” I shouted, fingers crossed.
Published on November 14, 2019 19:25