Lunch

Lunch

“You owe me an explanation.”

Jane looked at Ted, her mind was going a hundred miles an hour, but her expression was blank, bordering on bored, “For?” she asked.

“You ate my sandwich.”

She looked down at the empty plate in front of her. Snapping into gear she said, “Is this your plate?”

“Of course, it’s my plate, who else would it be?”

“I guess I thought it was left over from breakfast or something. I just got here.”

“Why would you sit in a place with somebody else’s plate sitting there.”

“I like to look out the window when I have lunch and this is the best chair for that. Nobody else was sitting here so I grabbed it.”

Ted looked at his sister, hard. “There’s nobody else in the house, who do you think could have eaten it?” he asked.

“Fluffy??”

“Fluffy doesn’t eat sandwiches, cats don’t eat sandwiches.”

“Fluffy would eat a tuna sandwich.”

“How do you know it was tuna?”

“Because Fluffy wouldn’t take it if it was peanut butter.”

“Just admit it, you ate it!”

“If that makes you happy, I’ll say it, ‘I ate your sandwich.’ Are you happy now?”

“Did you really eat it? The whole thing?”

“No.”

“You can’t just say it to make me happy!”

“You told me to!”

Ted was turning red, “Fine!” and he stomped away.

Fluffy came over, rubbing up against Jane. “Did you like that tuna Honey,” Jane said.

Fluffy, purred, “I liked the tuna bread too. I wasn’t hungry for a whole sandwich. She glanced out the window, “It’s really hard being a little sister.”

“Try being a cat,” Fluffy said, and they both giggled.