Happy frickin' Thanksgiving

She glanced at the clock and tapped her fingernails nervously on the counter. She was running out of time.

“Jeeez, how long does it fricking take?” she wondered to herself as the seconds ticked by. She was going to be late due to her miscalculation and that would just make everything worse.

She sighed and began to pace. Her eyes darted towards the door every few seconds as if the power of her will alone would make what she needed appear in the nick of time. Her heels clicked on the linoleum, filling the room with a pounding that only grew louder as she became more agitated.

Muttering under her breath she walked to the window and peered outside. Her gaze was met with an empty street, no sign of the car. She grumbled and resumed her pacing.

The oven beeped at her, mocking her, making her feel useless. She glared at it.

Just then, the front door swung open and her daughter rushed in.

“I got the last can of yams mom!”

“Oh thank GOD !”

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