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Are You My Mother?

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“Great, another red light.” I say, gently drumming my fingers along the rim of the wheel. I briefly glance at the rearview mirror, our eyes meet momentarily.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine.”


“Okay.”


“I’m tired” She said. Fiddling with the seatbelt.

“…Of what?”

“What do you think?” She barked.

“Stop being so dramatic.”

“Get me the number for animal control, they’ll get rid of it.”

“Can we have this conversation later.”

“Sure, like after the next attack?”

“He’s not that-”

“Have you looked at yourself in the mirror? You were mauled."

“He had a bad day, and it was wrong for me to-”

“Right. It’s always your fault.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth. I’m not making excuses… we’re dysfunctional, but isn’t everyone?”

“Totally. Karen’s Mom has her face scratched up too.”

“I’m tired of the sarcasm.”

“I’m tired of having to be your mother.”

“Excuse me?”

“I clean up the mess he makes… everytime.”

“No one asks you to help clean-”

“By mess I meant you.”

“I’m done talking about this.”

“ I didn’t-”

“I’m done.”

“Okay.”



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