Sweet Prison (Perfectly Imperfect #10)

All four of my spools of beige thread are gone. I sigh. Lucia must have taken them to play with. Her newest favorite pastime these days is stealing the bobbins from the basket that sits under my work table and weaving the fibers around and between the legs of the chair and the table, creating a jumbled mess, a sort of net-looking thing. When I asked her about it, she said she was a spider.

I can’t believe how fast the little munchkin is growing. She’s almost three and such a smart cookie. And on top of that, she has me firmly wrapped around her tiny finger. Or maybe just caught in her pint-sized spider web.

I smile thinking about my niece.

Heading to the living area, I continue my search, collecting the discarded sketches off the coffee table and couch along the way. My apartment at Leone Villa is always a mess. Nera says my stuff spreads as fast as the flu. Zippers, sewing magazines, and partly cut-out patterns litter the floor and furniture. The only stuff I keep organized are things like scissors and needles. Lucia could hurt herself with their sharp points and edges, and I can’t have that.