PHOTO PROMPT © Ronda Del Boccio
“Bah,” they taunted. “Your resolutions never last.”
When her twin brothers showed up for their monthly siblings’-dinner, muscles and righteous bravado rippling under too-tight shirts, she knew what they were expecting: Frozen pizza or boxed mac-and-cheese. The usual Candace-can’t-cook stuff.
They sprawled on her couch and let her putter in the kitchen.
“When’s the pizza ready, Sis?” Brian called. “We’re starving.”
She smirked. He and Bobby lectured her alright, but she knew they secretly looked forward to their junkfood fix.
“Oh, no pizza,” she brought out the shot glasses. “Wheatgrass!”