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"Is it here?"
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Venice hadn't even finished closing the front door all the way when Ray nervously asked her the question she was oh so melancholic about. Before she could even muster up the courage to speak, the younger girl's face fell in a way that meant she knew the mailbox was empty. It was almost as if her expectancy grew with each passing day as Venice's diminished.
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"I'm sorry," she muttered to Ray.
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Her litter sister looked into her eyes with one last ray of hope. "Do you think our relatives will ever send us clothes and food?"
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Venice smiled wearily and patted Ray on the head. "One day, we'll be rich with closets of clothes from here to the North Pole. Don't worry, my girl."
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Her smile grew; it was almost a grin, but not quite. She nodded at her older sister's words and embraced her.
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"Come," Venice whispered as she hugged her back. "Let's eat the leftover bread."
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Ray looked up into her gray orbs. "But the bread is hard, Venice."
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She forced a smile to reassure her. "We can dip it in our milk. Don't worry. It will be alright..."
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Venice took Ray's warm hand in her frigid one as they disappeared into the darkness of their kitchen.
