By Teresa Grabs
Carl unwrapped the present and gave his perfected “gee, thanks” smile.
“It’s a family tradition,” his father said.
Carl nodded and placed it with the other useless gifts that littered his bed. Thirteen was a bust but so were the first twelve, so it came as no surprise.
Later that evening, Carl opened his new book more out of boredom than interest and gasped. Feast, famine, war, imprisonment, and death flooded his mind.
His mother crept into his room. “So, how’s your future look?”
Future? His? Lie. Just lie. “All my dreams come true.”
She clasped her hands and smiled.