Lies

 

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1

It is with great thought that I state my utmost truthful opinion of this December night: I believe not even the angels can fly in an atmosphere so chilly such as tonight's. The winter breeze battered my pink face, slicing my hope and desperation with its shards of ice as I sauntered out to the mailbox. As I approached it, I noticed the mailbox door was slightly ajar, and instantly my exhaustion vanished. I scrambled towards the post with high hopes, only to find it empty. Again. I sighed and closed it completely before making my way back to my cottage. 


"Is it here?"


I hadn't even finished closing the front door all the way when Elizabeth nervously asked me the question I was oh so melancholic about. Before I could even muster up the courage to speak, her face fell in a way that meant she knew the mailbox was empty. It was almost as if her expectancy grew with each passing day as mine diminished. 


"I'm sorry," I muttered. 


My younger sister looked into my eyes with one last ray of hope. "Do you think our relatives will ever send us clothes and food?"


I smiled wearily and patted Elizabeth on the head. "One day, we'll be rich with closets of clothes from here to the North Pole. Don't worry, my girl."


Her smile grew; it was almost a grin, but not quite. She nodded at my words and embraced me. 


"Come," I whispered as I hugged her back. "Let's eat the leftover bread."


She looked up into my green orbs. "But the bread is hard, Venice."


I forced a smile to reassure her. "We can dip it in our milk. Don't worry. It will be alright..." 


I took her warm hand in my frigid one as we disappeared into the darkness of our kitchen.

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