Once the bell rang to signal that lunch was over, the boy darted out of cafeteria into the crowded hallway. He had three more dreaded classes to go to and then work.
History.
Chemistry.
Art.
Book store.
Arriving home at exactly 5:30 PM, the boy started to cook dinner for his mother. She wouldn't be home until 6:30 PM, but he preferred to make it earlier.
By the time he was finished, the whole house smelled like lasagna. Taking a slice up to his room, he started on his homework.
As he finished up his English paper, the front door slammed open and close, meaning that his mother was finally home. He listened as her feet stomped around the house. The boy decided that it was best to avoid his mother for the night.
She must have had a long day, he thought.
The boy quickly got ready for bed soon after. He didn't want to bother with his mother again today. Pulling his sheets up on his bed, he fell asleep to the sound of his mother's foot steps, clanging dishes, and clinking bottles.
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Paper Hearts | ✓
Short StoryThe boy crumpled up the paper. It didn't matter, nothing he did ever mattered. It was paper anyway. [ c o m p l e t e d ] * warning : to some people this may be slightly cliche, this may also be sad too * c o v e r . c r e d i t : @DramaticCoverMak...
