The Morning After
I imagined them lounging, enjoying their alleged triumph with coffee mugs in hand. A pin-prick of remorse in her otherwise carefree morning, my mother would be taken aback when she saw my name on the letter. I was almost as familiar with her response as I was with my own pulse. My letter was the next move in a game they were unaware I was playing, and it was more than simply words on paper. The bonds of the past were no longer bound to my future.
The Morning After
Unexpected Handwriting
They expected a frantic plea, but my penmanship was immaculate, each letter solid. I thought my stepfather’s smirk was waning because I thought it was too dramatic or childish. They were unaware of how meticulously I had prepared this or the meaning behind each phrase. For me, it was a proclamation, a step into adulthood that they couldn’t undo, but to them, it was simply a letter. The last turn of events was nearly upon me, and my course was set.
Unexpected Handwriting
