ZACHARY CHAUVIN

She slipped off the white glove of her right hand and noticed that a small stain ran across the seam of her new swing dress, marring the colour blue with darker shades. And what was it? Jelly? Molasses? No, it wasn't that sticky. It had to be juice. Jimmy can be so careless with his sugary treats; his mind always in the clouds when it came to guzzling down 7 Up and sucking endlessly his collection of penny whistles. It perturbed her to no end that she could not seem to purchase a cute and elegant dress without it becoming soiled by his spills and smudges. She was frankly becoming a little tired of his insolence.