Zella
Sasha twirled in front of the full-length mirror, holding up a silk blouse to her chest “You think I should get this?”
“You already have three of those,” I muttered, going through my phone. Uncle Charlie's grandson had sent the pictures at the birthday to me, and they looked quite good. Most of them were blurry, though. The poor kid was just flailing around with the camera.
“Its never too much to have the same blouse,” Sasha said, pursing her lips.
It is, if our family is dirt poor.
I would never say that to Sasha, though. Dad and I wanted to keep all this under wraps away from her. Dad put his remaining funds into investments, so it was a struggle keeping up with sending her allowance every month because they were my earnings for some freelance interior designs I did for cl
