Luminescence

Past

It was a few weeks after my 10th birthday that I noticed the gray hairs streaking my mother's beautiful umber-colored hair. She was coming home from work late, and her brown eyes were tired and dull. I wasn't mature at the time, but I was wise enough to know that we were running out of money. My father would never get home until two in the morning, always in a bad, grumpy mood. His face would be scrunched, like he was smelling something foul. His tie loosened, shirt un-tucked, and coat in hand. He looked tired, but that didn't matter. I was tired, but I didn't know it. The yelling, screaming, and abuse was too much, and I couldn't do much about it but cry and hope for better days.