Reed Moore

Wishful Thinking

Stevie sighed, breath steaming in the cold, like escaping frustration from his boiling thoughts. He was starting to detest thrift stores. Ever since his dad had gotten sick, his mom had dragged him from one junkpile to the next. Brooke, his annoying little sister, was in quite the opposite mood. Her two braids with sparkly beads, bounced with excitement as they crunched through the snow, to the entrance of the store with BRAD’S BARGAIN BIN written on over it. Stevie wished Brad, whoever he was, had decided to open something more exciting with his money. Like a laundromat. Or a tire shop. It could be worse, he thought grumpily, like Linda’s Lost & Found. That lady couldn’t decide if her shop was a store, or just a place to let her six cats run wild, stinking up the place.