Oliver stood up, dragging his feet on the ground, to go and open the door for his mother. As he swung the door open, his gaze met with the broad smile of his mother, but he was frowning.
“Can I come in?” Mrs. Milton asked, trying to be sarcastic because of the rage of anger written on Oliver's face.
“Sure mom. Don't be sarcastic,” he answered, and turned his back on her.
Mrs. Milton tiptoed inside and closed the door behind her. She held him from behind and whispered, “What's bothering you? Open up to mommy.”
But Oliver removed her hands off him and fled to sit down. “Are you sure you want to know what's bothering me, mom?” Oliver questioned.
“Of course, that's why I'm here.”
“What if you can't get a lasting solution to the problem? What happens afterward? You knew the problem at
