Operation: Apple Heist was a go.
Jack Jack left his Pop-Tart unattended — a rookie move in this snack jungle. I struck fast, like a sugar-fueled raccoon with nothing to lose.

I snatched the Apple Jacks Pop-Tart and booked it to the living room, feet slapping the floor like a toddler drumline. I launched myself onto the couch next to Mom, clutching the stolen pastry like it was a golden ticket.

She looked at me.
I looked at her.
I took a bite.

She didn’t say a word.
Because she knew.
She knew the snack laws of this house are written in crumbs and chaos.

Jack Jack screamed from the kitchen.
I chewed louder.

This Pop-Tart tastes like rebellion.

James out.