we don't like things loose

It was strange. Receiving her schedule for the day, for a time slot — the very last on the list — was not labeled as anything. All that was written were two lines of vague instructions that had eyebrows furrowing. 

                          Arrive on time.                           Be prepared.

Tina was five when her toddler of a sister had gotten ahold of her toy broomstick. The younger girl was only two, her smile bright as her laughter filled the room. 

Tina had begrudgingly allowed Queenie to play with her broom after a bit of coaxing from her mother, who had assured her no harm could be done to it. However, Tina watched anxiously, not exactly expecting the worst, though she couldn’t help but be worried. It was one of her favorite toys, after all. It had been a birthday present from their mother and father, and she had not failed to go a day without playing with it since it had been gifted to her. 

Tina was five when her toddler of a sister had gotten ahold of her toy broomstick. The younger girl was only two, her smile bright as her laughter filled the room. 

Tina had begrudgingly allowed Queenie to play with her broom after a bit of coaxing from her mother, who had assured her no harm could be done to it. However, Tina watched anxiously, not exactly expecting the worst, though she couldn’t help but be worried. It was one of her favorite toys, after all. It had been a birthday present from their mother and father, and she had not failed to go a day without playing with it since it had been gifted to her.