The Able sisters didn’t have much. Their small, old house wasn’t the nicest in the neighborhood. Neither Sable, Mable, or Labelle had time for the frivolousness of round-the-clock housekeeping. Dishes sat in the sink, clothes were strewn about, and a fine layer of dust had settled on the knickknacks and shelves that were too high up to reach.
But inside their small home, the sisters were happy. On cold winter nights, Mable liked to kick off her shoes and warm her tiny paws in front of the radiator. Sable often passed the time journaling or watching her favorite soaps on the tiny TV, one of the few luxuries the girls had. And Labelle, the youngest of the three (who had once been embarrassed of her hand-me-downs and holey socks), had learned to fall in love each day with the simple life the three had built.
Life had been tough since their parents passed away, but they were hard workers. They loved each other, they loved their work, and they loved their lives. The sisters were happy.