They crouched behind a stack of old cardboard boxes. Across the workshop, their grandfather reached into the battered fridge.
They snickered as he popped the top, not realizing his favorite alcoholic beverage had been swapped out for a healthy alternative.
They burst into laughter when he sprayed coconut water all over his dusty studio, ruining the door he’d spent all afternoon painting.
The old man turned, eyes narrowed in mock rage. His granddaughters had deprived him of one of his few pleasures – a cold beer after a long day.
But they already had Grandma’s blessing. What more did they need?
The Weekday One Hundred 