My birthday again. I didn’t expect much, we had been short on money for a while now, but it was nice to see the family all together. Mom and dad, Uncle Bob, a couple of cousins, and my crazy great aunt Alberta. I didn’t have any friends. But who needs friends when you could help Aunt Alberta use the bathroom or grab a beer for Dad and Uncle Bob? I felt a little selfish for even wanting presents when we could have put the money into fixing the leak in our old ceiling or repainting the pealing walls that always smelled like a combination of beer and cigarettes. But mom managed to pick up an extra shift that was just enough to get me something. It was a necklace, a gold locket! It wasn’t real gold, of course, but it was still beautiful. Inside was my favorite picture of our family, the one before little Johnny got sick. Before we lost all our money on medical bills. I smiled, a little teary eyed, at my mother. “Thank you,” I mumbled. She smiled, and for a moment I saw the old her. The one whose eyes used to be so bright, whose smile used to light up the room. Now the sparkle in her eye is over shadowed by the circles underneath and her smile by yellow in her teeth because we can’t afford toothpaste. I started to blow out the candle that was stuck in the single cupcake, but stopped. My crazy old Aunt Alberta stumbled up beside me. She handed me a badly wrapped present, and staggered away mumbling something about evil butterflies. Mom sighed, glancing after her. “You might not want to open that, I could be something rancid,” she joked sarcastically. I smirked, “Doesn’t smell too bad,” I said, and carefully pulled apart the wrapping paper. Inside is a pair of glasses, that matched my new necklace exactly! Me and Mom glanced at each other, wondering if this was a coincidence, or if the police would be knocking on our door. I pulled my long curly hair out of the way and put them on, wondering if Aunt Alberta knew I didn’t need glasses. My eyes widened in shock as I looked up at my mom. All around her, were different colors, shifting and swirling. Here and there, words were mixed in with storm clouds and snow storms. One particular word was repeated over and over again, Tired. I quickly took off the glasses, and looked back at my mother, who was no longer surrounded by glittery light. “What?” She asked. I shook my head and blew out the smoky candle, slipping the glasses in my pocket. I started to cut the cupcake in pieces, but she stopped me. “This is for you,” she explained, “a present from grandma,” I blinked as I looked down at the cupcake that suddenly seemed huge now I no longer had to share it. I hugged my mother, and ran outside to eat the cupcake, my cupcake, in peace. I jogged past broken down houses identical to ours until I reached the main square. The town we lived in was small, but on Sunday afternoons, almost the entire town came to see the market. It was the perfect place to test out my new glasses. I climbed up the stairs of the apartment building two at a time until I reached the deserted roof that overlooked the main part of the market. I set my cupcake down and slipped the glasses on. What I saw made me suck in a breath, gazing down at the dizzying colors exploding from every person in the square! I sat back against a low wall and started eating, mesmerized by the sight. There was the mayor, fat and rosy cheeked, with pink cotten candy swirls of embarrassment and love twisting around him as he tried to talk to the pretty baker, Ms. Blossom. And there was the high school principal, with dark clouds of annoyance casting his severe face in shadow. There were many others, from excited children sparking lightning bolts to confused old women with eyes covered in hazy white smog. I watched them until the sun went down, long after the cupcake was gone. I slowly stretched, hunger prompting me homeward. Reluctantly, I put the glasses back in my pocket and padded down to the street. I bumped into a tall boy, and caught myself on his chest. I backed away quickly, embarrassed by the way his arms had wrapped around me. “Sorry,” I said, looking down at my feet. “It’s fine,” he said also staring at the ground. Suddenly I wished I had the glasses on, so I could see what he was thinking. We stepped around each other awkwardly, and I jogged back home, hoping it was dark enough no one could see my flaming cheeks. I slipped back inside our house, and took my spot at the table. The rest of the night was uneventful, but I went to bed still feeling like the day must have been a dream. When I woke up the next day, the glasses were gone.