“Tell us a story, mama.” Nicole chirped when their mother tucked them into their crappy futon.
“Yes mama, tell us. Tell us a story. I want to hear a story.” Sia chimed in. Her sleepy voice enraptured their mother’s heart.
“You really want to hear a story now?” She asked and they both nodded. Their decrepit room was b***h black. Only the rays from the moon swept into the room.
The kids bored their sleepy eyes on their mother’s face, taking in her looks. Her features. You can see the beauty that lies underneath those wrinkled cheeks. It’s not because of old age it’s because of condition.
Sometimes wrinkles ain’t gotten because of old age, it’s gotten because of circumstances that alter a person’s looks.
“Fine. I'll tell you a story.” She grinned, fanning them with a piece of paper.
