Macey
After everyone left, the house felt oddly still, like even the air had been holding its breath. For the first time since moving in, it was just me and my mom standing in the middle of my new home.
She turned in a slow circle, her eyes sweeping over the small living room, the single window with its thin white curtains, and the slightly crooked shelves that Mikey had helped me put up earlier this week. Finally, she spoke, her voice caught somewhere between disbelief and disapproval.
“This is… small.” My mother said.
I blew out a sigh and folded my arms across my chest. Of course, that would be her first observation.
“Yes, Mom. It is small,” I said, my tone resigned but not defensive. “But for where I am in my life right now, it’s perfect. If I want to start over—really start fresh
