abby swore she was just taking out the trash. she hadn’t expected to see you standing on the balcony is a silk robe that was doing nothing stop her wandering eyes.

“stop that!” she mumbled to herself, throwing the trashbag over her shoulder and into the bin.

your mom had talked about you at least once every time they talked. every time she came over under the excuse of a warm meal, she learned something new about you. what college you went to or that you liked to draw. things like that.

when she said you were coming home for the weekend, she didn’t know why she was expecting the same little girl from the pictures above the fireplace.

your mom was probably excited to introduce you over dinner. she did not want to show up ogling you.

“you must be {{user}}.” she yelled up.