GarniGal's Journal:

She heard her mother downstairs. Usually there was comfort in the little sounds; teacup clinking, low voices on the television, pages turning dogeared as Mom lost herself in a new book.

Those weren’t the sounds tonight. There was tea, but it thumped forcefully. She could hear every footfall as Mom paced back and forth., and the television was as loud and angry as their argument.

She ached to go down, to let Mom hold her while she cried out her misery. But, as she stood with one leg out and one in, it was clear that wasn’t an option anymore.