She rarely visited her friend at her home. Usually they went out for drinks. Celia understood why, the noise level and constant activity of four girls under ten years old was a painful assault on her ears. If she had to face it every day, she would need to drink too.Sitting at the breakfast bar, Celia examined the tile floors noting the massive amounts of glitter ground into the grout.Maybe Kayla doesn't know how to clean up glitter, she realized with a sigh.A squeal pierced through the craziness followed by Kayla bursting into the room. She carried a red package about the size of a shoe box over her head like a trophy. Three of her children scampered and jumped around her, all eyes on the box.She set it in front of Celia as a moment of hushed silence fell on the room and all eyes focused on the box.Celia stared at it with its fancy lace bow and flowers decorating the top. A sniff and stroke with her fingertips told her the flowers were real. The only marking was her name, 'Celia Huxley', in beautiful, hand-written calligraphy.
