Rain tapped against the window. Lily sat on the rug and watched the drops race each other down the glass.
She turned and gasped. A giant cardboard box sat by the door. FRAGILE was stamped in bold black letters.
Lily stomped her slippers over and yanked the tape with her teeth. Pop! The flaps sprang open.
She shrugged off her raincoat and hopped inside — but her knees knocked the sides. Too tight!
She pulled on her striped sweater and squeezed in again. Her elbows poked out. She added her fuzzy socks. Still no good.
I just need to try harder, she thought. So she kicked off the socks and rolled up her sleeves.
She stepped in wearing only her tights and shirt. The box tipped with a loud CRACK. She grabbed the edge, wobbled — and laughed.
She took a deep breath, bent her knees, and folded herself in — arms in, legs up, one last wiggle. Everything slid in smooth and snug. She grinned so wide her cheeks hurt. The box fit her perfectly, just the way she is.