by Eileen Bordy
“Run down to Omar’s and get me some cinnamon.” Jeremy’s mother handed him an empty jar and a ten-dollar bill. “I’d go, but your sister is asleep.”
“I have homework,” Jeremy lied.
“I’m making these snicker doodles for you.”
Jeremy’s mother used to be an anesthesiologist. She still was, she’d correct him, but was taking a break to raise him and his baby sister.
Jeremy looked at the ten-dollar bill. The idea that he could pocket the change his mother never asked for convinced him to go.