madgre
She could hear him, of course, but she pretended not to. His pleas weren't enough to thaw the ice that had formed around her heart. She turned her body away from his and stood to leave.
She was worth it, he decided. She was the apple of her eye. She was worth more than all the gold and silver and precious stones in the world. She completed him and he could never see himself without her by his side. Smiling, he swung the door to the jewelry shop open, ready to begin his future with her.
"Sit up, it's a sign of confidence, dear."
The sullen teen glared at her mother and yanked the headphones out of her ear. "What?"
"Stop slouching, people will think you don't think highly of yourself."
"Mom, clearly you already do."
Her house was sterile. Every piece of furniture was arranged just so. Every doily was draped at a perfect angle. The pictures were hung at perfect ninety-degree angles. He'd expected to walk into a home the first time he met his mother, not a museum.
She sat at her desk, day after day, staring at the computer screen. Her boss walked by slowly, menacingly--or so was his intention--making sure that his employees all worked hard.She knew his schedule, though. Knew that he took a coffee break at ten o'clock and then strolled around the sterile, whitewashed walled room for a few minutes, slowly sipping his sissy frappaccino. It was only then that she minimized the solitaire window and pretended to be studiously checking reports and crunching numbers.
"You left me there. You just left." Her voice was almost void of emotion, which was odd considering the importance of the subject.
He shrugged. "I didn't leave."
"You did," she insisted. "You left."
"No," he said. "I walked forward. You didn't follow."