Guilty Cards: A Short Story
"I’m not that hungry this morning.”
But then she pulls one of the guilty cards, You’ll need your strength for this afternoon. She bites her lip. She doesn’t like to bring it up over breakfast. I eat another bite. She told me she packed my lunch.
Then I get territorial and I'm like, I’m 16, Mom. I can pack my lunch. You know have more important things to do.
She reaches for a paper sack. But now she know you’ll have something to eat. "You have to keep your strength up” she says again with worry. Sighing, I grab the bag. I know this ham and cheese sandwich won’t be eaten, not any more than the one yesterday or the day before. And even if I do eat it, I’ll just throw it up again later. Anything consumed after 11, always ends up in a trash at 4:07.
But then she pulls one of the guilty cards, You’ll need your strength for this afternoon. She bites her lip. She doesn’t like to bring it up over breakfast. I eat another bite. She told me she packed my lunch.
Then I get territorial and I'm like, I’m 16, Mom. I can pack my lunch. You know have more important things to do.
She reaches for a paper sack. But now she know you’ll have something to eat. "You have to keep your strength up” she says again with worry. Sighing, I grab the bag. I know this ham and cheese sandwich won’t be eaten, not any more than the one yesterday or the day before. And even if I do eat it, I’ll just throw it up again later. Anything consumed after 11, always ends up in a trash at 4:07.