Sunday, 10 July 2016

Story #320 - The funeral guy #part 2

I wanted to tell mom to bugger off, but I couldn't. It pissed me off, too. Why would she be at my apartment when she's the one that got along with him more than I? He was her favourite, too. Dammit!
'To hell with that woman. I'm not opening.'
As I'm shaking my head, I hear the door knob. 'Forgot I gave her a key. Aw, man. I don't wanna see her at all right now.' I locked myself in the bathroom.
Sitting there, by the shower door, I heard her footsteps screeching in my pad; one step every two seconds, courtesy of a bad hip and bad knees.
"Michael," She said with a warm voice. "Michael."
I won't say anything.
"Don't be like that. Come out. The lights are on. I'm suffering too, you know?"
Stay home and suffer, then.
"Your house is a mess. Whenever you come out, you'll have a shiny place."
Oh, boy.

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