Lilly
T
hree days flew
by until Kayla’s birthday, and I stood stiffly before her front door as I worked up the courage to knock. She never liked anything I gave her for holidays, and after a few years, I just started giving her things I knew she would hate.
It was a joke- a bad joke that was never funny.
“Lilly! Honey! Just come in- you know you can.” The door swung open to reveal Lilly’s mom, and I blushed as she spoke around the growing gap between the barrier and the frame. Her hair had been straightened, but I could see it wanting to curl tightly at the ends. Absently scanning her crisp, floral shirt and plain, blue jeans, I smiled at how relaxed she looked.
My mother would never be caught dead in anything less than a four-piece formal, even at home. Pushing back the creeping neg
