Hate is a Strong Word

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If there was proof we lived in a simulation, here it was now.

Weekday mornings in the kitchen were met with emptiness, the absence of my parents ready to break their backs at work for us. It was routine for me to not see them over long stretches of time. They were both hardworking people, never missing a day or hour at work.

However, there was a glitch.

Mom and Dad were both sitting at the kitchen table by the time I walked out. Their eyes both followed me as I ignored them and headed to the pantry to make myself a sad bowl of cornflakes.

"Good morning, Ezra!" they both chirped at once. One double-take and they would've been those creepy-ass twins from The Shining.

My parents both had this innate talent of pretending nothing was wrong after verbally demolishing me. It almost convinced me I was in the wrong. Big smiles widened on their faces.

I of course freshly remembered the fact that they told me I couldn't go on Finding Solstice. The contract would expire in three hours. I stopped chasing time.

I poured my milk then my cereal (yes I am mentally sound) and swerved the kitchen table onto the couch.

"No eating on the couch," Mom sternly reminded me.

I got up and then sat on the hard floors, sitting away from them.

"Are you angry?" Dad asked.

What the hell kind of question was that? 

"No," I replied. "I'm not allowed to be angry anyway."

"Your mother and I talked," Dad continued. "We thought about the show."

My ears pricked up but I still didn't turn around. Chances are, they were going to reprimand me in those annoyingly calming voices of theirs, telling me it was a dumb idea anyway and I have better things to do.

"Maria told us that the prize was a lot of money," Mom said.

Of course that was their motivation. I was the upcoming cash cow.

"And it's just for the summer," Dad continued. "If you do make it, you can get experience to find a real job."

Now I turned around. "What are you saying?"

"You can go on the show," Dad announced.

I almost flung my cereal into the air out of excitement. I ran up to them and attacked them with grandiose hugs.

"Thank you!" I repeated frantically like my use of that word was going to expire.

"However," Mom began, and I pulled away. "You will represent this family well. You will practise your song, and when this is finished, you will focus on getting a job."

"Yes! Yes! Yes!" I exclaimed. "Of course, I won't let you down!"

I couldn't wait to tell Maria!

"Where is this contract?" Mom asked.

I ran to my room and grabbed my phone. After two minutes of waiting for it to turn on, I showed them the email. Mom glanced at it, tilting her head back. They looked at it for about ten minutes.

"We are signing this," Dad informed. Once they did, I attacked him in another hug again.

I changed my mind. I definitely did not hate my parents.

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