24: Wrath of Mom

Logan

As I expected, the second my truck rolls into the driveway, my mom storms through the front door, rolling pin in hand and house shoes scooting across the pavement like a woman on fire. She is visibly fuming in the morning light, and I’m almost too afraid to get out.

I sigh, accepting the inevitable, and open my truck door. It takes no more than a second before my mom goes off on a vengeful rant about how cruel could I be to keep her ...