Presents for Sophie - 14.

I’m one lucky girl, and the gifts keep coming from every corner of the globe. Bracelets. Books. Heels. A delicate butterfly costume I wore once before. Even a pouch of dog food. Each box lands at my feet in a neat stack, and I sink down to open them. Blonde hair falls across my cheek as I slice the tape with my thumbnail. The first lid pops open with a soft rip. Inside waits a slim stack of hardcover books, their spines cool and smooth against my fingertips. I run a palm over the leather cover of the top one, then set it aside and reach for the next parcel. It rattles lightly. Shoes. I slip one on, the satin straps winding tight around my ankle, and admire the way the heel lifts my calf. A smaller box follows, wrapped in gold paper. I peel it back to find a set of silver bracelets; they catch the light as I slide them up my wrist. The last package is bigger, heavier. I tear the cardboard and find the folded butterfly wings tucked inside, their mesh wings shimmering with tiny crystals. I lift them out, feel their faint weight, remember how they fluttered against bare skin the last time I wore them. The empty boxes crowd around me now, torn paper scattered like petals on the floor, and still the thrill of each new surprise lingers on my fingertips.