Rosie thinks I’ve lost my mind. It’s possible the strong smell of ginger and molasses in the air has gone to my head…has me hallucinating things.
But I swear there are people inside the gingerbread homes. And not little gingerbread men either, but actual people.
“Did you notice all the houses are exact replicas of our neighborhood?” I say.
“Hmm, you’re right! The attention to detail is impeccable!”
“Right down to the shadows in the isomalt windows.” I peer inside a house that looks like ours, swallow my heart when I see a face that resembles my own staring back.
© 2022 Nortina Simmons
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