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I sigh and I take off my headphones. It’s 6:00 in the evening and I just got home from a long day of school. I was listening to some Radiohead to get my mind off some things. Enough of that, I suppose.
I walk into the kitchen and I see my mother. She’s young for a parent of a 13 year old, as she’s only in her early 30s. She might as well be on her 20s, though, as everyone has told me that she’s aged well, whatever that means. I’ve also been told by my friends how hot she is. As you can guess, it can get pretty annoying.
Anyway, she must be stressed, as she barely even looks at me.
“It’s right there on the table.”
I look down and I see microwaved ravioli. Shrugging, I get a fork out of a drawer and I begin to eat it.
“So,” I ask, “Where’s Scottie