11: PENPAL FRIENDS

“What is taking Sinister so long? I am conducting a meeting at 7 in the morning. The quicker we get this over with, the sooner I get to go home and prep.” Mary Dickson complained. She was a viper who didn't take it lightly when people had her waiting.

“Mother, be patient. He still has another half an hour to get here,” her son, Bradley, told her.

“Bradley is correct, darling. He will be on time.” Her husband, Thomas, added, giving her a modest smile.

“Thomas, you know I like punctuality. In business, being on time is still late in my book," Mary groaned. She had been flourishing by that statue for years.

“Mother, remember you're hypertensive—you don't want to elevate your blood pressure, do you?” Bradley sought to pacify her. After her mild heart attack a few years ago, she reached out to him and apologized. They had been working to rebuild their mother-son relationship ever since then, and how slowly it was building.

“Dad, may I be excused? I cannot take all this old people chit-ch