or when a perfect movie is ruined by an imperfect remark.
guardians of the galaxy was perfect, to say the least. it came to a wonderful end, and as we headed home afterwards, there was still that buzz the film had left in me.
i don't know how it came up, but my mother, sitting the front seat, made some sort of noise that i assume was supposed to mimic vibrato, and said, "ahhhhahhhahhahhh i shall sing like wren! like in an opera!"
it was but a whisper, but small cars make for easy hearing.
"mom," i strained. it had been a while since she'd done it, but i hated it nonetheless.
she kept on, and louder so that everyone could hear as we pulled into the driveway.
i'm sure it wasn't as loud as i remember it, but as soon as we parked, i hopped out of the truck and bolted inside, angry and sad and tired of this bullshit.
YOU ARE READING
Smart Girl
Non-Fictionthoughts from the smart girl. //the journal of wren// //highest rank #2 in non fiction// //all names of real people interacted with here are altered from their original versions for privacy's sake//
