Every morning Patrick put the spoon down in the cereal bowl and slid off the chair until his feet touched the floor. He wiped the milk awa from his face with his shirtsleeve. When he got to the door he stood on tiptoes to turn the knob. Holding on the railing he climbed up the one flight of stairs and knocked on the second floor door.
“My mudda didn’t give me anythin’ to eat.”
“Well that’s too bad,” Gram said noticing the milk mustache on his face. “I’ll scramble you an egg.”
Patrick put down the fork and burped when he had finished the last bite. He slid off the chair until his feet touched the floor.
“Bye,” he said shutting the door.
Holding onto the stair railing he walked up to the third floor apartment and knocked on the door.
“Daisy, my mudda didn’t feed me any breakfast.”
“What a shame,” she said noticing the yellow egg yolk stain on his shirt.
“Got any toast?”
“Sure come on in.”
Patrick finished the toast and slid off the chair. When he closed the door he said, “See ya tomorrow.”
My Turn 
Cute story! True or fiction?
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True. Thanks Ellen,
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