Jun 13, 2018
@mighty-manuel
A tuft of black hair was all that poked into visibility behind a dining room table. Eight fingers, and two little thumbs, gripped the edge and wrinkled the white tablecloth. They tensed as the head beneath the black hair came into view, pushed up by tiptoes in striped socks. Bright violet eyes stared intently at the treasure in the middle. On guard was an emerald mirage, a dragon of blown glass encircling a sugary horde that, in the boy’s opinion, it had no right to. The tiptoes pushed harder, and the fingers lifted to stretch further.