I'm taking Jenny Matlock's Saturday Centus again, sharing the insanity with a crew of crazy writers who elect to add a hundred of our own words to Ms. Jenny's weekly prompt in an ongoing attempt to create petite stories that don't suffer from their strictly enforced brevity. The prompt is in red, and without further ado...
Her Favorite Things
The early November sunshine cast golden rays across an array of exquisitely appointed packages, reclining in luxury on the bed. In a sense, they had taken up residence, and evicting them to accommodate Thanksgiving guests would not be easy. The poor dears looked so clean and comfortable there, and the Wrapper had grown accustomed to glancing in at them fondly every time she passed the open door. Imagining the colorful papers and carefully tied bows collecting dust in the attic was discomfiting, to say the least.
How vexing that gifts so lovely must make way for the people who would receive them. Whatever was this world coming to?