The house looked exactly the same as it had five years ago. Same old furniture, polished to a shine. Same cold feeling lurked about the halls. Stiff-lipped servants. The smell of disinfectant that clung to every piece of outdated artwork. Gold embellishments that had my stomach turning over on itself.
My mother, most of all, hadn't changed a bit.
She sat with rigorous posture, hooking one foot behind an ankle. Her hands were neatly draped in her lap whilst her spine was so straight you could have used it for a ruler. Every now and again when I said something she disapproved of her upper lip would curl outward ever so slightly.
"So, you are happily married, then?" She asked and leaned forward to pick up her teacup. She had been nursing it ever since the maid brought it out for us, over
