The day drawled on slowly and I spent all day between the television and the refrigerator. My mother didn't leave her room until it was almost supper time, and even then she came downstairs to ask me to make food before taking over the television remote and the whole living room. I frowned and once again found myself rummaging through cupboards and drawers. Our cupboards consisted of rice and pasta, we had red sauce for the pasta but nothing for the rice. I made pasta.
I overcooked the pasta and it was all soggy and I burned the bottom of the sauce on the stove when I got distracted by a stray cat sitting on the fence outside meowing real loud. My mom didn't eat, and I worried about her again that night. I went up to bed early to play on my old computer, my mom didn't speak to me, again.
YOU ARE READING
Small hands
Teen FictionFrom the eyes of a boy named Ben with his head in the clouds the first year of high school isn't what he expected. (GRAPHIC NOVEL UNDRAWN)
