I walked in through the front door after school and quietly set my bag down. The house was calm, but I could hear soft sounds coming from the kitchen.

Curious, I walked toward it.

When I reached the doorway, I stopped.

Mom was there in the kitchen, her long orange hair tied up in a bun, wearing her beige knitted sweater and jeans. Her friend Serena stood close to her, her long red hair falling over her shoulders, dressed in an orange sweater and black jeans. They were standing right next to the counter, close enough that their arms were touching.

And then I saw it — they were kissing. Gently at first, then more deeply, completely absorbed in each other.

The kitchen felt suddenly too quiet.

I froze in the doorway, unsure of what to think.

Mom was the first to notice me. She gently pulled back, her orange eyes widening for a moment before softening. She didn’t look scared or upset—just calm, like this wasn’t something wrong.

“Oh… you’re home,” she said quietly, her voice warm but careful. “We… we were just talking, and got a little carried away.”

My heart pounded.

No way... I thought. Has Mom been infected by the mysterious Lesbian Virus? It was the only wild explanation my shocked mind could invent in that second.