She sat across from me, the large light wood table anchored us.
My tear stained face outlined a story which my words hesitatingly filled in. 'Mum and I had a fight.' She looked up at me, mid stitch, from some needlework she had brought to the table. She placed it carefully on her lap and took a sip of tea. 'And...?' She had a way of arching an elegant brow that... Sign in to see full entry.