SISTER'S SURRENDER
The keys rattled in the lock as Kayla opened the battered old wooden door. She hardly noticed the creaking as the door swung inward to bump against the wall of the narrow hallway. With a grunt, she hefted three grocery bags, her computer bag and the mail. Staggering in she somehow managed to kick the door closed behind her without dropping anything. She set her computer bag onto the table and gratefully dropped the groceries onto the floor with a heavy clunk. She took a perverse pleasure in knowing that the noise would annoy her landlord, Mrs. Phelps, downstairs. Lately, anything that would annoy the self-righteous and self centered Mrs. Phelps was an experience to savor. She felt a small grin spread on her lips at the mental image of the crotchety old woman looking up at her ceiling and squinting in disapproval. Kayla wondered if any kids still bothered to knock on the old woman's door for Trick-Or-Treat or if they had all learned to stay away. At the thought of kids, her contem...