My Mother Doesn’t Like Me (and That’s Okay)
I don’t really think my mother likes me, not in the cinematic, “we’re enemies” kind of way. more in the chemical-mismatch way. I’m the smell she can’t stand but can’t identify in the fridge. she spends all of saturday gutting it, muttering about “chicken-shit” leftovers, and by the end she’s mad at the fridge itself; …