Amara is sitting at a coffee table, her frizzy dark hair going off in all directions, her dark skin decorated with golden Rings, a coffee cup in her hands, and a green, flower-covered, dress on.
“Amara!”
Amara's dark brown eyes twinkled in the light as she looked up from her book and through her round glasses. She immediately jumps up to hug me and I let out an involuntary grunt.
“hello to you too.”
A small laugh comes from her mouth. We hadn't seen each other since high school, sure, we talked, but we never actually met up. She practically screeched when I told her I was moving back.
She slowly lets go.
“sorry.”
I smile.
"But seriously, how have you been? I heard about your mum. I'm so sorry."
My face darkens and tears threaten to slip through the icy gates that are my eyes. Remembering my mum was like being kicked in the chest and not being able to breathe. We got along pretty well, and had arguments here and there, but none were as bad as our last one.
I shouted that I hated her and she grabbed my wrist, I clawed and grappled for freedom as if she was my captor whom I *needed* to escape.
I love her. She has never been my captor, she has always been my mum. The woman that cared for me, and the woman I cared for. The one that had been there when I was drunk, ill, or crying over some stupid ex.
She had been my favourite person.
"I'm fine. Ill be okay."
"What about you?"
I say, trying to swiftly change the conversation.
"Heard you got married"
Amara's husband was life dunking yourself in ice water, feels cold at first but it soon warms up. She was happy with him. They met in high school, and of course, I had to give her my seal of approval for this boy she 'loved'. Guess she really meant it.
