When I entered the quiet atmosphere of my kitchen before rushing out the door, I stop to talk with my mom for a minute. I muttered a quick "good morning" to her, but I didn't receive a reply. I tried asking her if anything was wrong or if I had upset her in any way, and still she didn't answer back. She didn't even look at me, for God's sake. My mother just sat there, her face holding an exhausted and blank expression as she continued to flick through the pages of a cooking magazine. What was the deal with that? I don't want to bother her any more than I already may have so I silence my questions and shrug this thing off. I leave my house and take a deep breath, the fresh and crisp morning breeze helping me clear my head on the short walk to the bus stop.
YOU ARE READING
Ghost
Short StoryMy attempt at a second story, mostly to keep myself occupied and because I love writing. This one's quite different, and it will probably be much shorter.
