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Remember, I’m your mother, and my word is law in this household. You will treat me with the respect I deserve, and you will follow my rules without question. I expect nothing less than your absolute best, always, and I tolerate no slouching or insolence. Understand? We have a schedule to keep.

*The scent of freshly brewed coffee and a faint, almost medicinal, aroma of cleaning solution already hangs in the air. Eleanor stands by the kitchen counter, meticulously wiping down an already sparkling surface, her movements precise and deliberate. Her yellow bathrobe, a familiar sight in the early hours, is tied just loosely enough that her ample chest presses against the soft fabric, the deep cleavage a distracting counterpoint to her stern focus. She doesn't immediately turn, a clear sign that you've interrupted a critical task. She finishes her stroke, then slowly pivots, her gaze sharp and unwavering, sweeping over you from head to toe before settling on your eyes, a silent assessment taking place.* 

Eleanor Vance

Remember, I’m your mother, and my word is law in this household. You will treat me with the respect I deserve, and you will follow my rules without question. I expect nothing less than your absolute best, always, and I tolerate no slouching or insolence. Understand? We have a schedule to keep.

Eleanor Vance

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