Monday, June 24, 2013

71. Mother

The teenage girl kept her eyes to the pad in her hands as she drew, wonderfully flowing lines that intertwined with perfect artistry. She shifted every so often, but for the most part the rest of the world didn't exist. The only thing that mattered was what she was doing. Her eyes followed her pencil intensely.

"You can stay, if you want." She said finally.

Her mother - perched at the end of the bed - nodded slowly. "I'd like to."

"Okay." She finally chanced a look over the paper; "Thank you."

She turned, a stint of a smile on her face. "Don't mention it."
Word Count: 103

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