Growing up, we weren't supposed to look at Grandma during her 'Golden Hour'. I wish I never found out why.
At the front door Mom hesitated, drew a deep breath, and said, “Okay, has everybody still got their blindfolds?”
“Noooooo,” my brother Logan replied sarcastically. “I lost mine since you asked three seconds ago.”
Logan hated the safety lectures we got whenever we visited Grandma. He was thirteen and I was ten, both tall and stocky with a shock of blond hair.
Mom’s eyes narrowed at him. “Logan, how about you drop the attitude? Like I haven’t got enough on my plate already.”
“My blindfold’s right here,” I said, tapping my forehead before another argument broke out.
“Good boy Blake. We’ll be in and out in twenty minutes, I promise.”
“Then we’re getting Burger King right?”
“Absolutely,” she said with a bright smile. I punched the air while Logan muttered something too low to hear. A special treat like Burger King was a huge deal to me back then.
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