If only the strong survived, then why did she feel like such a loser? Narrow, box-like homes lined the street as she peered at the addresses in the dark. The bus driver dropped her off a block away with directions. Cold winter wind blew through her thin trench coat. She pulled it closer, but her teeth started to chatter anyway. If she didn’t find it soon, she’d turn into a Spicesicle She must have taken a wrong turn. Maybe she was supposed to take a left instead of a right? The wealthy, established neighborhood screamed of money and when she abandoned Sugar neither of them had any. The street sign matched what she looked for and the number on the house appeared right. She gazed up at the three-story building and swallowed around a hard lump in her throat. Her sister lived here? She pulled an envelope from her pocket and checked the return address once more. It was correct. Maybe Sugar rented, Spice doubted a librarian’s salary was enough to afford a house in the northwest side of Chicago.
