/u/writingevil's posts
"Don't touch that button," her mother had warned her countless times before, but she wanted to see what would really happen so today she stole the keys, snuck into the room and let her tiny palm hit the cold metallic knob.
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Al fumed out of the house and into his car, ignoring his son who had toddled up to the screen door as his wife continued slamming pots and pans in the kitchen.
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When my future mother-in-law said that the ring was an heirloom that has been passed down the family and insisted that my boyfriend propose to me with it, I finally knew she had accepted me.
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Their's had always been considered a perfect married life, with many calling their relationship "goals" and after twenty-five years, her husband's sudden death left not a dry eye in the house.
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Two years she'd wiped her daughter's bony ass, fed those foul-mouthed lips, tended to her fetid, pus-filled bedsores, emptied pan after pan of shit and piss, but never, not once, did she lose faith.
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