Dionne
The smell of fresh coffee filled the air as I sat at the dining table, mindlessly stirring my cereal. I was just about to take a bite when Mom walked up behind me, leaning over as she pressed a gentle kiss on my forehead. She always did this after one of our late-night talks, like it’s her own way of making sure everything was still okay the next morning.
Last night, about half an hour after I’d gone to bed, I heard a knock on my door which sort of jolted me awake from my sleep. I almost pretended to be asleep, but instead decided to check. I was surprised to find Mom standing there, concern written all over her face. It was as if she always knew when something was wrong, no matter how hard I tried to hide it.
“Mum, I’m really tired right now. Can we talk tomorrow?” I said quickl
