The Look Over the Glasses
Margaret had perfected an art few could rival—the subtle but powerful look over the glasses. She didn’t use it often, but when she did, it carried the weight of a thousand unspoken words.
That morning, she was settled into her favorite green armchair, the newspaper spread out in her lap. She had just been enjoying a quiet read when a sudden noise from the other room made her pause. Slowly, she lowered the paper, tilted her head, and peered over the rim of her glasses.
Her eyes narrowed—not with anger, but with that timeless mix of curiosity and quiet skepticism. It was the kind of look that could make anyone squirm, even if they’d done nothing wrong.
In truth, Margaret wasn’t upset at all. She had simply heard her grandson mumbling something about “borrowing” a snack before dinner. She smiled faintly to herself, hidden behind the paper, knowing that just one glance would be enough to keep him on his toes.
The day went on, peaceful as ever, but in the household, the legend of Grandma’s Look grew stronger.
