Story 5: The Babysitter

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The warm glow of the porch light spilled out onto the neatly manicured lawn as Angel approached the Sanders' front door. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for another evening of babysitting the three Sanders children. Though it had become a familiar routine over the past two years, Angel still felt a flutter of nervous anticipation each time she stepped through those doors.

Reaching into her bag, Angel retrieved her keyring and selected the spare key Mr. Sanders had entrusted her with. As she turned the lock, the door swung open, revealing the cozy, well-appointed interior of the Sanders' home. Angel stepped inside, the familiar scent of freshly baked cookies and lavender-scented candles enveloping her.

"Hello?" she called out, her voice echoing through the spacious foyer. "It's Angel."

Hurried footsteps thundered down the staircase, and moments later, the Sanders' two daughters, Lily and Mackenzie, came barreling into the room. "Angel!" they squealed in unison, their faces lighting up with delight.

"Hi, girls," Angel said, bending down to embrace them. "How was your day?"

Lily, the elder of the two at 14 years old, launched into an animated retelling of her ballet recital, while Mackenzie, the 6-year-old, chimed in with eager commentary. Angel listened attentively, nodding and asking thoughtful questions, her genuine interest in their lives evident.

A mop of dark hair appeared at the top of the staircase, followed by the lanky frame of the Sanders' 11-year-old son, Ethan. "Hey, Angel," he greeted, his voice cracking with the onset of adolescence.

"Hello, Ethan," Angel replied warmly. "How was school today?"

Ethan shrugged, descending the stairs with his hands in his pockets. "It was alright, I guess. Boring, as usual."

Angel smiled sympathetically, understanding the struggles of navigating the social complexities of middle school. "Well, I'm sure we can find something fun for us to do tonight," she said, her tone reassuring.

As the children continued to chatter excitedly about their day, Angel ushered them into the living room, where she helped them settle in for their evening routine. Lily and Mackenzie sprawled out on the plush sectional, their attention immediately drawn to the television, while Ethan retreated to the armchair, absentmindedly flipping through a comic book.

Angel's gaze swept over the familiar space, taking in the family's distinct personality reflected in the carefully curated decor. Framed photographs of the children adorned the walls, capturing their growth over the years, while an ornate fireplace mantled displayed an assortment of trinkets and knickknacks, each with its own story.

"Alright, you three," Angel announced, clapping her hands together. "Time for dinner and then off to bed. What would you like for dinner tonight?"

The children erupted into a cacophony of suggestions, each vying for their favorite meal. Angel listened patiently, eventually settling on a compromise that satisfied everyone. She moved to the kitchen, her steps sure and efficient as she prepared the meal, drawing on the familiarity of the space.

As Angel worked, the sound of the front door opening drew her attention. She glanced up to see Mr. Sanders stride through the entryway, his tailored suit jacket slung over his arm and his tie loosened. Angel felt a subtle shift in the atmosphere, the easy camaraderie she shared with the children giving way to a more formal, professional demeanor.

"Good evening, Mr. Sanders," she greeted, her voice reflexively adopting a more reserved tone.

Mr. Sanders paused, his gaze sweeping over Angel with an unreadable expression. "Angel," he replied, the corners of his mouth quirking upward in a small smile. "I see the troops are all accounted for."
Angel nodded, turning her attention back to the stove. "Yes, sir. They've been very well-behaved tonight."

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