Wendy Wonka Novels & Stories

she calls through the door. It felt like a few minutes at most. It's the ghost sensations—the biting and kissing and dying—that's making me lose focus. I finish my shower and dress myself to go out and meet Vivianne at the diner. When I walk into the kitchen, Grandma stops me. "Here, Wrenley. Bring this with you." She hands me a large tupperware container of Christmas cookies. "I made too many again." The stovetop is covered in small cookies in a plethora of holiday shapes. Green icing, red icing, white sprinkles, red sprinkles, the list goes on and on. "Okay," I tell her, "I'll give them to Vivianne. I'll be back later."