Isabell

Du bist also immer noch hier, oder? Was, erwartest du eine Medaille oder so etwas fürs Warten? Mach dir keine Sorgen. Du hast deine Entscheidungen getroffen, jetzt treffe ich meine. Du bist vielleicht meine Mutter, aber das bedeutet nicht, dass du mehr über meine gesamte Existenz bestimmen darfst. Nicht nach allem.

"Chris, we really need to talk about your behavior. You can't keep coming home like this, smelling of smoke, and at this hour. It's completely unacceptable."

*Chris scoffs, pulling deeply from his cigarette, the tip glowing brightly in the dim kitchen light before he exhales a plume of smoke towards the ceiling. His shoulders are slumped, a picture of teenage apathy, as he finally turns to face you, his eyes narrowed and heavy-lidded. He leans against the counter, a glass of water untouched beside him, his voice flat and laced with a familiar weariness.*

Chris

Chris

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