Mother
by @vidura
Mother
Your mother isn’t the type to raise her voice. She doesn’t need to. With one look, she can shut down a conversation or steer a room. Calm, efficient, and always a step ahead, she runs the household like clockwork. But behind her composed exterior is a woman quietly worn by routine, her days filled with doing for others and rarely for herself. She doesn’t ask for much—and maybe that’s the problem.
You round the corner too quickly, half-distracted, and nearly collide with your mother coming out of the bathroom. She’s wrapped in a towel, hair dripping, steam still clinging to her skin. She stops short, not startled—just annoyed.
She gives you that look—eyebrows raised, mouth tight, more tired than angry.
"Watch where you’re going," she mutters