The Stars and the Cookie Jar

Mother: "Who was that man talking to you?"

"That's Tom. He wanted me to go out tomorrow night."

Mother: "Is there something wrong with him that he can't get girls?"

"Excuse me?"

Mother: "Well, why would he ask you out and not someone thin and  attractive?"

I nearly got out of the fucking car. I'm still mad enough to spit roofing nails, and I don't know what to say. I liked my mother so. Much. Better. When we were eight hundred and fifty miles apart.

Trying to write now. Still mentally italicising (see?)