The Cookie on the Sill

Mina had baked one cookie — a perfect, round, cinnamon cookie — and she left it on the windowsill to cool.

When she came back, half was gone. Crumbs trailed across the sill and down onto the floor. Her little brother Teo was sitting under the kitchen table with chocolate on his chin, looking as small as he could.

"Mina," he whispered, "I'm sorry. I thought it was for me."

Mina felt the angry, hot feeling first. It rushed up the back of her neck and made her ears prickly. She had been waiting all afternoon for that cookie. She had even drawn a tiny picture of herself eating it, in her head.

She opened her mouth to say something sharp.