27-52-18-6-

Six. The orange ticket shook in Stacy's hand. A new house. Any college paid for. A new car. The rest of her life without a worry.

Back on Channel Four, balls in the air-blown hopper flew in all directions as the fifth number shot into the narrow silver-caged ramp. Thirty-three. The number for Jesus. Another match. She'd give so much to her church, she'd build a whole new one from the ground up. One number to go.

Her heart thumped in her ears. Her two daughters jumped, squealing into their hands. The last ball shot up and rolled into view.

"And who are those people?" Shondra asked her four year old daughter, Chauntelle, as they sat on the floor, looking at her drawing together.

"That's me, that's Mamma, D'Marco, that's Daddy, and that's Kimmy and Kayden," Chauntelle replied.

"Kimmy and Kayden?" her mother asked. "Who are they, and why are they so small?"

"I told you," Chauntelle clenched her fists, "They live behind the tv!"

"Girl, don't be like that now."

"I'm *not* being like that, Mamma!"

Shondra felt a tug on her shirt and turned. She gasped. Beside her, no more than five inches tall, were two... tiny... humans.

His dad said the words sincerely, with a smile.

"Good luck."

He wasn't sure why, but his dad was proud of him. Still, twelve year old Jerome felt nervous pushing open the door to Daisy's 50's Diner. Evylin was already waiting for him.

"Cool hair thing," Jerome offered.

"Thank you," she smiled, but Jerome could tell she wasn't sure what to do on a first date either. Jerome scanned the menu and realized he hadn't asked his dad for a little extra money. His wallet revealed just enough to buy two milkshakes.

He suddenly felt very grown up.

Little Margie pushed the toaster button down with all her strength until it clicked. She tucked the end of the bread bag under itself and slid it to the side of the counter before heading over to the fridge to get the butter dish.

The toast popped up and Margie pulled both pieces then blew on her fingers. Pressing the knife hard into the cold butter, the chunks didn't melt or spread like she wanted. Luckily, the jelly was more cooperative.

She put the "Happy Mother's Day" note on the side of the tray and started towards her mom's bedroom.