Mom purses her lips, her hands clasping her mug inches from her mouth. She says nothing but lets the tide of red creeping up her neck speak for her. Her left eye twitches.
Would speaking right now be poking the bear? After a moment, I gulp. We can’t just sit here. “Mom?”
“How dare she?”
I jump as her mug slams on the table.
“Did the editor say anything? Please tell me he reprimanded that punk.”
“In his defense,” I say into my mug, “I don’t think he heard her.”
“I ought to go down there and—”
“If you do anything I will disown you.” Continue reading