"He's probably playing on that damn computer," I muttered to myself, setting the pizza on the counter.Slipping off my dress shoes, I left them by the ...oot of the stairs like I always did, a habit of being yelled at too many times for tracking dirt on the rugs. My socked feet padded up the tight, wooden stairs and into the main hallway that ran from the master bedroom down past the bathroom and the c***dren's rooms. I heard the light music playing as I moved down the hallway, some female singer. And I... hate that. I hate the fact thatevery day I'm becoming less like them. I have had this feeling for awhile, especially when my sister went to those ballet lessons, but now ismore intense than ever."Santa looked at the letter, surprised. That poor kid was pouring his hearton that letter. Santa knew that probably, this was the only way he couldexpress those feelings. That wasn't the first time he read that kind ofletter."Santa, I know this is probably a bit too much to ask, but it's my. More

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