• •
  lynette was your neighbour— mid thirties with three boys running around all the time.

she was always a sweetie to you, asking you over for dinner, and over time you had become quite good friends.

she shared her husband was always away on business, and she had to deal with her little monkey’s all by herself.

today, you had baked some muffins and had a bunch to spare, so you went with over to her house and knocked on her door.

when lynette opened the door, you were greeted with unkempt hair, a rag over her shoulder, and stains of god knows what on her tank top.

“whoa are you okay?” you asked as she stepped aside.

“kids.” she groaned, slumping on the dining table.*