The Donut Shop ✔️

'I' Stands for 'Introspective'

When they arrived at the door to the study, Tweed rapped once and entered. Mara was standing next to a bookshelf in the room, rifling through the assortment. 

"You'll never guess what we found," Tweed said. 

She raised her brow. "A life?"

He scowled and punched her arm lightly, causing her to snicker. "No. We found a huge pan of almonds," he said. Her head snapped up, causing her space buns to wobble a little as her earthy brown eyes scanned him, searching for any signs of deceit.

"Really? Go take a shot of it then," she ordered, tossing the camera into his arms. A bit thrown off that she wasn't going to accompany him, he sulked back to the kitchen. Ethan came to stand next to Mara, making his way over to the wooden case displaying all of the books.

Red's variety of books was vast, and he had everything ranging from Charles Dickens to Jen Wilde. Ethan thought it was funny that he had a single teen fiction novel. The further Ethan looked, the more suspicious he became of the bold purple letters. There was nothing like it on the shelves.

"Hey, wait a second," Ethan whispered as he pulled out the book's spine. He opened it up and immediately narrowed his eyes in confusion. The pages inside the book were not traditionally printed pages, but rather handwritten, scrawled in tight cursive.

"I think this is a journal," he told Mara as he began reading. As she read over his shoulder, she shook her head, and Ethan's nose caught a whiff of her coconut-scented hair gel. 

"It's not a journal. It's a memoir."

***

"Papa, look at der Schmetterling!" the little boy shouted to his father, tugging his hand. The man scowled and snatched his hand away. 

"I told you not to speak German out in public. Are you crazy?" the man asked the boy, whose eyes widened at his father's rebuking. 

"I'm sorry!" he cried. His father let him go, glaring at him coldly as he turned his back on the little boy. The boy stood in silence as he watched the butterfly flitter away, never to be seen again. 

***

"This is too easy," the boy boasted but cowered at the angry look from his mother as she pulled him aside from the table, away from the girl.

"Your sister isn't doing so well. Don't say that it's easy. You'll make her feel bad," she gently rebuked him. The boy returned to the table and was silent for the rest of the time with his sister.

***

"How was school today, Karen?" their mother asked their little girl, who was beaming from ear to ear and holding up a certificate of participation from the spelling bee. 

"Look what I won!" she shouted, proudly displaying her certificate in her tiny hands. The boy behind her dragged his feet as he walked in the door, not bothering to kick off his shoes and place them in the cubby. He instead choose to retire to his bedroom.

"What did you win, Thomas?" the lady asked the boy, who wanted to disappear. He held up his second-place trophy, but said nothing, choosing to stare at the shag carpet.

"Why didn't you win first? Weren't you practicing for a whole week?" their mother asked, her eyebrows lifted in concern. The boy's eyes welled up with tears unconsciously. He pushed himself into his bedroom, slamming the door shut.

***

"Why does it matter that I skip a grade? Why should I stay with her in the same grade?" the boy, who was a bit older now, asked his mother, who was pinching the bridge of her nose.