~𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐆𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐬~

~𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭~

~

Multicolored grains floated to the surface of the milk, swirling around with the swift motion of a silver spoon. Sugar-coated letters of the alphabet bathed in the soft white pool in the orange ceramic bowl.

Paperjam squinted as he leaned over his breakfast, attempting to spell words with the cereal letters. He wanted to spell his name, but the pour he got from the box this morning didn't give him an "m" and only one "a", though he needed two to meet his goal. Tough luck.

So there he sat, fishing for the last "h" he needed to complete his uncle's name. He knew it was in there somewhere, but the sugary purple letter wasn't making it easy for him.

He huffed, letting his back hit the back of his seat. His little pink eye sockets frowned at the unfinished "fres-" in his bowl, hoping that maybe the missing letter would float to the top, making his job easier.

"Good morning, squirt," said a less than familiar voice.

Paperjam gasped, whipping his tiny skull around to look for the newcomer in question.

Another skeleton stood behind his chair, pulling a white hood from his head. A red, lightning bolt looking scar sat below one of his discolored eyes.

"Whoops, did I scare you? Sorry about that."

He took the seat next to him, folding his arms on the tabletop. Paperjam studied him, clenching his tiny spoon in a just-as-tiny fist.

"Are you new here?" He asked, his words coming out more rude than he intended.

The new guy flinched at the sudden harshness, but what else did he expect from Error's kid?

"Well, yeah. I guess you could say that." He paused. "Your dad sent me down here to keep your company while your uncle's out this morning."

"Where did he go?"

The skeleton shrugged.

"Shopping, I suppose. Said he needed new gardening equipment... or something."

Paperjam snickered.

"New tools aren't gonna save that sorry thing," he said, turning back to his cereal. "Uncle Fresh doesn't have a very green thumb."

The skeleton laughed, putting his head in his hand.

"You've gotta lot of attitude in such a small body."

"I'm just being honest! I didn't mean it to be hurtful." Paperjam took a bite from his spoon, hiding his face.

"Oh no! You're good, little man." The skeleton held out his hand. "I'm Cross, by the way."

Paper put his small hand in his bigger one, giving it a small shake.

"Paperjam! Nice to make your acquaintances's."

Cross bit his tongue, trying not to laugh at his grammatical mistake. He was just as professional as his father, just in a first-grader's body.

"Nice to make yours." He peeked over the edge of his small bowl. "Whatcha got there?"

Paperjam looked into his bowl, giving the milk a good stir.

"Just practicing my spelling, I guess."

"I see. You look like you're doing a pretty good job, but your cereal looks a little soggy."

He looked back down, seeing the letters ripping apart and almost melting.