I listened from downstairs as she packed. She’d break everything she owned if she wasn’t careful.
I didn’t help as she dragged the over-stuffed bag down each step. I’d learned that offering only made her more angry, dragged the performance out a bit longer.
“I love you, please don’t go like this.”
It slipped out as she struggled with the latch. I kicked myself.
She looked back, scorn dancing in her red-rimmed eyes.
“Well, I hate you.”
The door slammed, an icy draught cascading down the hallway.
She would be back by dinner tomorrow. She always was. Teenagers…