Home sweet home

The boy and his mother were at a party. The night was getting heavier with every passing tray of drinks. An hour before midnight, she got up, kissed her friends goodbye and walked to her son’s circle. “Let’s go,” was her commanding request. The chirpy group went silent and collectively stared at their hero to either leave or make a manly statement. Had he gone for the former option, they would have mocked him. So, the 16-year-old had to stand up, walk up to her, cup her face, look into her eyes dramatically and blurt, “Ma, you go. I’ll reach home in a bit.” She could sense the alcohol in his breath but then, social outings have a cost of their own. To avoid drama, she elegantly left the scene. After all, their house is less than a kilometer away. Two hours later, our hero is drunk as fuck. However, he somehow makes it home, rings the bell and can barely keep his chin up. The door opens and his mom is standing there looking at him worried. “MA, WHY ARE YOU WAITING FOR ME? GO HOME! I’LL REACH IN A BIT!” were his words before hugging the doormat.

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