Owen
The pillow fort was a disaster—well, it wasn’t technically a disaster, but that’s only because we hadn’t started a fire or completely demolished it yet. Right now, it was a mess of blankets, cushions, and the remnants of what had once been a mighty fortress, now sagging in the middle like an old tent after our play fighting.
“Okay, I’m this close to just starting over,” Abigail announced from the other side of the pillow pile. “It’s like we’re living in a slouchy pancake instead of a fort.”
“Maybe if you didn’t treat the pillows like a trampoline, or pick fights, it would actually stand up again,” I replied, not looking up from the corner I’d claimed as my base of operations. I was on my phone, swiping through a bunch of completely irrelevant stuff that wasn’t remotely as importan
