Latest Blog Post

𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝙸 / 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚎

The house smelled like vanilla cake, balloons everywhere, colorful and lopsided, ribbons brushing the floor, paper crowns sitting on tiny heads. Her mother was laughing, trying to keep the mess under control, and her father had music going on the old radio, that crackled when the volume went up too high. He was smiling, that big easy smile that made Shot think nothing bad could ever happen.

She stood on a chair in front of the cake, her name written in shaky pink letters that leaned too far to the left, six candles burning bright. She could see her reflection in the window, a small girl in a paper crown, ready to make a wish that probably wouldn't matter but felt like it would.

Gun stood nearby, taller, older, wearing the same kind of crown but somehow making it look like the party belonged only to her. It was supposed to be their day, the shared birthday their mother said made them special. But Gun had never liked sharing. She had been louder, singing over Shot's voice, pulling faces for the guests, showing off the new doll she got before Shot could unwrap hers. Every joke, every smile, and every word from their parents curved toward her like metal to a magnet. Shot just kept silently waiting for her turn, for her breath, for her wish.

When the room quieted after singing happy birthday, and before Shot could pull in the breath to blow, Gun did. One strong gust, and all six flames went out. Smoke curled into the air. Then Gun turned to her own cake and blew her own ten candles.

For a second the room went too quiet, only the music on the radio kept playing. Her dad laughed, that nervous sound adults made when they didn't want to choose sides. Her mother said something about sharing. Gun smiled wide, too proud of herself. Shot just stood there, small hands gripping the edge of the table. The candles were out. The wish was gone.