"Honestly, they sell so much junk at yard sales, I'm surprised. All the ol' jeezers just love looking at things from their glory days." Margaret's stepmother said, turning on the television as Margaret relaxed on the couch.
"What all did you get?" Margaret asked, sipping on the fiber packed smoothie her stepmother had given her on the way home. The peanut butter made it addicting.
"Oh, just a dresser, some clothes, and other junk. Nothing great. I just love going, your father loved checking out that very flea market." Margaret's stepmother replied as a knock came at the door. "Could you grab the door for me Magpie? I think it's the old man I paid to bring all the stuff."
Margaret nodded, sipping on her smoothie as she opened the door. In front of her stood an older man, probably in the his 50s. He smiled at the girl in front of him, all clad in her cute little white dress, and asked "Where's your mommy?"
Margaret called out to her, letting the man follow her into the house.
He and her stepmother unloaded a large amount of stuff, bringing it up the steps. Margaret tuned them out as she watched the cartoons, enraptured by their pretty colors, and eventually, enraptured by the bottle of liquor and fruit juice her stepmother gave her. The only thing that got her out of her stupor and relaxation was a shake on the shoulders.
"Lunch time honey." Margaret was up and following her stepmother before she knew it.
"Wait, I already ate lunch. I'm not hungry!" Margaret replied, sitting down at the table.
"Dear, I completely forgot! I'm so used to just cooking whenever I want, being alone. God, this food will go to waste now that I've been such an idiot Maggie!" Her stepmother said. Hook. Line. SInker. Margaret smiled.
"It's alright, I understand. You're not alone anymore. I'll have a peck or two." Margaret said, grinning and hugging her stepmother. Thanking her profusely, her stepmother changed the subject.
"Can I see your handsies? I know the burn probably doesn't feel too bad now, but I just want to make sure my favorite daughter isn't injured." Margaret showed her hands willingly, both which were still a bit red. "Still tender. Here, let's get some ice on them." Margaret nodded, accepting a pair of mittens once again.
With a bib in her dress, and gloves around her hands, Margaret began to eat the chicken tenders with Mac & Cheese. Eventually, her stepmother moved out into the living room, setting up a table for her to watch TV and eat. Before she knew it, she had finished the plate, replaced with the same food, and some delicious looking brownies. That plate was soon done, and Magaret felt the spiked brownies hit her.
The afternoon would be fun.
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