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“HOW WAS YOUR DAY BURIED in paper?” his mother screamed at him from the living room.
“It was fine, Ma,” Nick yelled back at her, throwing his bag onto the fainting couch in the foyer.
“Don’t leave that there, I’m not here to pick up after you,” she managed to scream out before she lapsed into an uncontrollable coughing fit. He picked the bag back up and put it over his shoulder, laughing, seeing their relationship hadn’t changed since he was a child, but recognizing the irony that nowadays he spent more time cleaning up after her.
“You do anything fun today?” he asked her, wandering into the kitchen.
“There’s a plate for you in the fridge. I didn’t know how late you were going to be.”
“You can likely expect me home early these days, Ma. As soon as the shift changes I’m gl
