Shatter Proof

No matter how much the past hurt, John couldn't keep them wrapped in cotton wool forever

- Helen Irving

John studied the two seemingly-identical rulers. Shatterproof or shatter resistant? He shoved them both back on the stand, exasperated, and marched out of the cut-price stationer and back into the pouring rain.

‘John! John, wait!’ He turned to see a huge rainbow umbrella and a pair of purple wellies bouncing towards him. There was only one person it could possibly be – Lynn.

He groaned; she was the last thing he needed now.

‘Hi, sis,’ he said, smiling grimly and leaning his tall figure under the dripping umbrella to kiss her on the cheek.

‘Coffee?’ she asked, taking his arm. Lynn steered him into the nearest café and bagged the window seat, ordering cappuccinos and croissants.

‘Now, tell me why you looked so grumpy,’ she said, trying to wipe the rain from her face.

‘Give me a minute!’ John laughed, despite himself.

His sister was always so full-on! He had warmed up in the heat of the café and he suddenly felt dizzy. He’d forgotten breakfast again. He pushed back his wet, floppy brown hair from his face.

‘It was the rulers that did it,’ he said, getting annoyed again. ‘Shatter-proof is obviously better than shatter-resistant, but they were twice as much, so I didn’t get either.’

Lynn burst out laughing. ‘Seriously?’ she asked. ‘I know you’re a perfectionist, but to get worked up about rulers is a bit much, even for you!’