“Is that my beautiful granddaughter?”
Gramps’ voice booms from the living room the second I step through the door of our tiny apartment, warm and full of mischief.
I roll my eyes, but I smile anyway as I set the single bag of groceries on the kitchen counter.
One bag.
That’s all I could afford this time.
I try not to let it get to me, but Jesus, I can’t believe the price of things. The world’s going to hell, and grocery bills are leading the charge.
Good thing I went vegetarian in my teens because the cost of meat? I don’t even want to think about it.
Gramps, on the other hand, still needs his lean proteins, so I make sure to get him a small pack of chicken or fish when I can swing it.
Our apartment is small.
I call it cute and cozy, but really, it’s just small.
Still, I do my best to keep it warm, keep it ours.
A green and gold wreath I made for St. Patrick’s Day hangs on the door, the little ribbons dancing every time we walk past.