7

Houston's mother had arrived, and her lipstick was a bit smudged. She knows, just like the back of her hand, how her own mother chooses to mess around with younger men. Including the gardener.

The old woman just can't resist kissing the poor lad first before she proceeded to the threshold. "Where's the pruning man?"

Houston eyed her walking aimlessly down the first floor of the house. She was perched on the railings of the second floor landing, waiting patiently for the woman to raise her head.

And she did.

"Oh... you." She smiled faintly. "Hi, darling. Have you eaten?"

"Yes, mama."

The old woman cackled. Her eyes tear up while she walks towards Houston. "I didn't give birth to a computer-generated toy. Where's your pa?"

Houston felt a pinch of something uncomfortable in her chest. She looked down yet saw nothing on it. 'Have I developed a heart disease? That can't be.'

"Father is resting, old woman." She hushed down her own voice. "He told me to send him hot tea at two. You're too ea