My Little Peter Pan
(Another for the war… special attack: Belle deals with mood swings.)
My Little Peter Pan
“You’re being quite unreasonable.”
Belle gave a small huff and crossed her arms over her chest, trying to gather as much dignity as she could while sitting criss-cross-apple-sauce (as the kids called it—and in a dress no less) at the small wooden table, surrounded by little boys in costumes and enough fairy dust to make her sneeze. The boy at the other head of the table—dressed in green wool and leather and squeezing his hat between his fingers—jumped up from his seat and flung the cap across the room.
“I’m not being unreasonable!” he screamed, voice high in childhood and strained with emotion, “There’s no reason why you can’t stay!”
