The Fugitive in Heels

That night at dinner: Part 1

I felt like a spy as I slipped a recorder into my pocket. I was wearing skinny jeans and a pink sweater. The recording device fit right in my back pocket. If I put it in my front pocket, I jabs my hip.

The Morgan's would be here soon. I rushed downstairs and pulled the chicken pot pie out of the oven. I struggled to keep my balance as I slid around the kitchen looking for 5 plates and silver wear. I grabbed the green beans out of the bowl and put them in the colander. I then put my flats on and checked my hair.

Then, the doorbell rang. I saw my mom come down in a knee-high deep blue dress. She had a side braid that made her look like a 3rd grader. My dad had on his suit. His only suit. He hated formal events. I ran to the door slowing as I came around the corner so they didn't think I was crazy. I opened the door to Hayes and Sarah Morgan. Ms. Morgan in a purple dress and a silver belt. Mr. Morgan was in a suit that looked so formal that I expect a limo to be parked in the driveway. I showed the Morgans to the living room and they sat down. The Morgans on one couch, My mom and I on a couch and my dad in the armchair.