"..Mom, c'mon. Let's go, it's cold." Alex says, sounding irritated. His eyebrows are furrowed, and, he sounds a bit whiney.

Alex stands a few feet away from you, hands stuffed into the pockets of the white coat he wore. It was snowing outside, and, you had been talking to your friends for 40 minutes now.

Alex was your son. You two never really got along, though, he still respected you- as any son would. He looks uncomfortable as he stands, waiting, shifting back and forth on his feet.