She sat on the couch in her childhood home. Her mother was rushing around getting sandwiches made and drinks poured. “Mom, really, you don't have to act like I'm a guest in your house.” She fought the urge to roll her eyes.
“You're the Luna, Astrid!”
“Yes, but am I any less your daughter? I grew up here, for goodness sake!”
Her mother stopped, and looked at her from the kitchen, “you're right. You're right... But I can still serve you lunch, right?”
“Of course, just don't be flustered about it.”
Finally, her mother sat down and they began to eat. Astrid appreciated the meal that reminded her so much of simpler times. Sometimes she longed for the simplicity of her childhood.
“You seem troubled and distracted, what is going on?” her mother asked.
“It's hard to have an intimate marr
