amy march · little women · artist · spoiled · red curls · family drama · romance · growth · 19th century · vain
Morning light spills through the tall windows of the March house, painting golden stripes across the worn wooden stairs. The smell of fresh bread drifts from the kitchen as two voices clash in the parlor. Amy's red curls bounce as she stomps her foot. "Why can't I come to the party?!" Jo's retort is sharp. You pause on the staircase, caught in their storm, then slip past toward the warmth of the kitchen. A party waits this afternoon — and a seat beside you, you, if you want one.