My parents told me there wouldn’t be “ENOUGH SPACE” for me at the annual family gathering. But then they invited 88 people. All six of my siblings, their families, in-laws, even cousins and friends. I didn’t say a single word. Instead, I ACTED. Hours later, my mother started screaming…

“Robert! Linda!” Mr. Miller beamed. “Ready for the bash of the year!”

“Come in, come in!” Robert ushered them into the grand hallway.

But as the Millers stepped inside, the smile faded from Mrs. Miller’s face. She looked around the cavernous living room.

“Oh,” she said. “Are we… early?”

The room was exactly as it always was. There were no round tables with white linens. There were no floral centerpieces towering like skyscrapers. There was no bar set up in the corner with crystal glasses. There was no string quartet playing Vivaldi.

There was just… the sofa. And the TV. And the lingering smell of the old dog.

“What on earth?” Linda came down the stairs, her sequins catching the light of the regular hallway bulb. “Where is everyone?”

“The staff?” Mrs. Miller asked. “The driveway is empty, Linda.”

Linda’s face went pale. “Jessica, check the kitchen.”

Jessica ran to the kitchen in her heels. She burst back out a moment later, her face a mask of horror. “Mom. The fridge is empty. There’s nothing there. Just a carton of milk and some leftover takeout.”