“Mom… I don’t know how to say this. Your presence makes me uncomfortable. Your breathing, the way you eat, the way you walk… I can’t stand it. Old people are unpleasant.”
I felt something crack inside my chest.
But my voice stayed steady.
“Sophie… is that really how you see me?”
She hesitated.
Then nodded.
For illustrative purposes only
In that instant, I understood something painful but undeniable.
I was no longer her mother.
I had become an inconvenience.
A temporary shelter.
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