The lingering scent of chocolate and popcorn permeated the darkness. It was always strongest near the thick curtains separating the theater from the lobby. Wrapped in velvety maroon folds, feeling all princess-like, I longed for sparkly jewels to crown my pig-tailed head. Crouched behind the glass case, Grampa Burt zipped open the first cardboard box with his pocketknife.
“Hey, Sprite, you gonna’ earn your keep, or not?”
Quickly unwinding myself from those luxurious curtains, I scooted into the lobby. Early Friday mornings we restocked the candy case. My job was to unpack the candy from the big box, then hand it over to Grampa Burt. He arranged the candy in neat rows on the three glass shelves.
“Grampa Burt, did you do this with YOUR grampa when you were a little boy?”
“Nope. I didn’t live at the Victory when I was a little boy.”
“You DIDN’T?” At five years old, I couldn’t imagine living anywhere BUT a theater.
“Back when I was a little boy we lived on a farm.”
“Really? What did you grow there?”
“Well popcorn, of course—” his blue eyes almost disappeared as his face crinkled into a smile— “and chocolate bars!”
Daphne Rice [Portland, OR] enjoys writing stories for CCF. Her first children's novel is living in her computer and is in search of an eager publisher.
© 2009 Daphne Rice. Original for CCF. (Rice grants CCF first electronic rights for one month; CCF may archive the material indefinitely and include it in an eBook anthology).
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