Donut.

My brother, Joshua, sent me a text the other day. In it, he asked me if I remembered something, which I did. We were kids, maybe nine or ten years old, and our sister a year older. Our bedroom door often got stuck, if you were inside- you might have been locked in for five minutes, or you could have been stuck longer.

This particular time, my brother got locked in, for more than an hour- how much more after that I can’t remember. My sister and I were watching television. We wanted a donut each with milk. We went. We took. We ate and drank. Joshua wanted one too but he was stuck inside, and of course he said he would wait until he was free to get it. We wanted to be nice, against his will mind you. He was upset for what we did, but we only want to help. We took the donut and put it in a sandwich bag. We took some milk and poured it into a sandwich bag as well. The door had a small gap between the bottom of it and the floor, though not a big gap. We passed him the milk through the gap. Fine. To get the donut through? We had to smash it, and then we pushed it through the gap of the door. It goes without saying that he didn’t enjoy that donut. Haha.