I went into the small “kitchen”, if that is what you would like to call it. It was more like a closet. I hate living here, we lost our house when the police took Dad away. Something about how he stole money from his company. I dont know my Mom doesn’t tell me anything. I peaked inside at the refrigerator. I made sure there was always food for me in the house, my Mom would always “forget” to go food shopping. She was too busy walking the streets or whatever the boys in school call it. Dont get me wrong I love her and all, but of all occupations she picks that one!
“Hey Mom, you gonna be home for dinner tonight?”
“Sorry sweets no, I have to visit…an old friend. Make yourself a sandwich. Alright well see ya sweets I might have to stay the night there so don’t forget to lock up!”
“Yeah, yeah I know, bye!” She was never home for dinner. I have no clue why I keep hoping that one night i will come home to a dinner, like a regular son with a regular Mom in a plain house.