The Wrong Brown Bag

I marched straight into the kitchen because my stomach was rumbling so loud, and I grabbed the brown paper lunch bag sitting on the counter. But the second I tore open the flap, a blast of oily, fishy stink smacked me right in the face! It was a sardine sandwich—Dad's bag, not mine! My mouth dropped open in complete horror and tears sprang straight to my eyes. I didn't drop it or run away, though. I stood rooted to the spot, clutching the greasy wax paper, gasping at how completely awful this morning turned out to be.