This was a story for speedrent. I hope you like it!
Disclaimer: I don't own Rent.
His older sister, Cindy, was babysitting him while his parents went to her parent-teacher conference at Scarsdale High. Just as he was about to have his snack of raisins -Mark didn't like raisins. They reminded him of prunes, which reminded him of his Grandma Ruth, who smelled funny and always pinched his cheeks to make him feel like a baby – the doorbell rang.
"One second Markie," Cindy said as she went to the door. Mark took the raisins on his plate and threw them by the sink. Only a couple actually went in the sink; most of them fell on the white counter or on the tiled floor. Mark turned his head around and just managed to glimpse Cindy signing something brown and handing it back to a shadowy man outside of the door. She picked up a very big box, even bigger than Mark, and brought it inside.
"What's that?" Mark asked, pointing to the box.
"It's a cardboard box. But I don't know what's in it." Cindy replied. "Let's open it, ok?"
Mark didn't know how he was going to open the box if no one was ever going to let him use the pointy knife. And Cindy took one of them out of a drawer and put it into the box. She opened some flaps up and put the box on the floor.
"Oh look," Cindy said, pulling something purple out of the box. It was big. Really, really big. "It's a, sweater?" She looked really confused. "And pants? Oh God." She looked at a piece of paper that must have been in the box.
"What does it say? What does it say?" Mark cried, flailing his arms up and down.
"It's a gift from Grandma Ruth. She gave me a matching velvet sweats combo. It says, 'Happy Birthday Honey! These are for you to use when you go to the gym. I know you can do it sweetheart.' Oh God, these pants are size 24! I can't believe her. The last time I was that big was when I was, like twelve!
"They look fluffy," Mark said, laughing. "Big, fluffy purple pants." He remembered seeing pictures of Cindy when she was big. He was too little to remember it, but she looked like two people. Two big people. But now Cindy looked a lot smaller.
"She is the person I know," Cindy said to Mark, who was not really paying attention to Cindy now. That box looked good.
"Can I play in the box?" Mark asked, pointing at it.
"Yeah, sure, whatever," Cindy kicked the box over to his chair, and went to the garbage can. She lifted the lid and threw the velvet tracksuit into it. "Now," she said, rubbing her hands together, "What should I tell Grandma Ruth when she asks me how I like her gift?"
"Um," Mark said, lifting the box over his head, "Tell her that Maureen's dog Rex ate it. I'm gonna play in the box."
As the phone rang and Cindy went over to answer it, saying "Oh, HI Grandma Ruth!" Mark began to make his own little world in the cardboard box, a world where he had some friends, and they were all happy, a world where Cindy was a small Cindy, and not two people. And most of all, a world without a single raisin.