Always And Forever

I never knew my mom was such a crafty, sneaky vulture of devious nature. Barely even sat down and already she was plucking handfuls of fries off my plate. 

For some strange, inane reason or another, I can't help but hyper-focus on every move she makes. Even if all she was doing now was freely helping herself to my lunch, somehow, it felt like she was doing a lot more than that. 

She could go to any nearby vending machine at any point and push for Pepsi over Coke, and my brain would probably interpret that several thousand different ways ranging from bad taste to a blatant sign of the end times. Both possibilities would be equally as likely in my head. 

Maybe it's because of her outfit. Yeah, I'm blaming her outfit. It's settled, black is as bad as it gets, and no one better dare take that out of context.