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"I'm fine, Mom. Seriously," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "The party was just... a bit much. And honestly, I didn't get the best sleep afterward."
Mom reached out and gently ruffled my hair, just like she used to when I was young and came home crying from school or with a scraped knee. Her fingers lingered a bit, smoothing my hair down, but there was a hint of sadness in her smile...her lips turned up, but her eyes didn't match.
The soft light from the lamp made her features look gentle as well, but it couldn't hide those worry lines that had started showing up more frequently lately.
"I know Keith told me to chill, but I just can't help it," she said softly, mixing that familiar motherly love with a touch of frustration. "Worrying is pretty much part of the job description."
