XENIA
One of my favorite things to do during lunch was steal Claudia’s food, just to see that playful frown that she never failed to shoot at me.
“That’s seventeen curly fries, and you’ll pay by sacrificing your first born child to me when the time is right,” she warned when I picked two more fries off her plate.
I was nearly toppling out of my seat in laughter as I responded, “Really, C? Your repayment for stolen fries is a child? Be f*****g for real.”
“I have no plans to birth children of my own but I’d love to have a house full of adopted ones, so yes, I’ll be taking your first child in exchange for your klepto habit around my food,” she pointed her plastic fork at me with what she thought was a threatening look.
“You’re so cree—”
“I’d like everyone’s attention,” a familiar and ob
