Cinnamon Rolls in the Rain

The girl with the wispy blond ringlets pressed her nose against the glass and sighed. She was tired of the rain, tired of the cold. Shivering in her pink sweater, she stomped her pink boot on the ground.

"Let's take a nap," her dark haired friend stretched sleepily. "We can lay down in the chairs in the next room." The white-blond girl wrinkled her nose. "I want to do something. I'm tired of being cooped up."

"We could make cinnamon rolls," their new friend, a girl with golden wavy hair suggested. Unlike the girl with the wispy blond ringlets, her hair curled in shimmering waves, like liquid gold floating in glass. The dark haired girl snuggled deeper in her grey sweater, drawing her new scarf around her neck. "That's a lovely idea," she agreed, yawning.

The white-haired girl licked her lips. She loved cinnamon rolls. She bounced around the kitchen as her friends set the cinnamon rolls on a pan and turned on the oven. "What are we going to do for 20 minutes?" she asked, twirling on the tile.

"I've got a magazine to read," the golden haired girl offered.

"We can doze and let the cinnamon rolls wake us with their sweet scent," her dark-haired friend smiled.

The girl with the white ringlets thought to herself, tapping her foot against the floor. "I'm going to dance."

"Ok," the dark-haired girl shrugged, snuggling against her soft grey sweater. "Dance. Just move the chairs out of the way."

"I'm going to dance out there," the girl insisted, pressing her nose against the glass. She looked at the mist falling from the sky, the miserable grey clouds. The entire world looked wet and grey today, like a child walking home in the rain.

"But it's raining," her blond friend said gently. "You'll be wet and cold."

The girl with white ringlets smiled. "But it's dancing." Without another word to her friends, she took off outside. They watched from the window as she twirled in the rain under her pink umbrella. She spun in the center of puddles, slid along the road and pirouetted through the parking lot.

"She's crazy," the blond girl shook her head. "She'll miss the cinnamon rolls."

"She'll come back for them," the dark-haired girl smiled. She knew her friend. Patiently, she sat at the kitchen table and curled up, leaning her head on her hand. "She's not crazy. She's dancing."

The buzzer rang, and the kitchen door opened. The little blond girl ran in, her thin white ringlets sticking to her head with humidity. She shook the rain off her umbrella and looked hungrily at the pan of cinnamon rolls the other blond girl pulled from the oven.

"You came back," the girl with golden waves said. She set some cinnamon rolls on a plate and handed them to the dark-haired girl. The girl with white ringlets licked her lips, anticipating her own plate.

"She always does," the dark-haired girl smiled. She locked eyes with her fair-headed friend and grinned. "She's addicted to cinnamon rolls and dancing in the rain."