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“Forget I asked.”

“Okay,” I reply cheerily.

I’m cranky and needed an out to walk away anyway.

I’m not cranky enough that I miss the chance to check her out as I go. She’s in a similar outfit to what I usually see her wearing this early in the day. A matching, slate gray workout set with skintight leggings and a cropped long sleeve top. She must be getting back from the gym, but I’ve never asked. I’m not sure she’d be willing to answer that anymore than anything else I’ve asked her.

The curves that it accentuates distract me long enough that I don’t get a chance to stop her when she snatches my cup out of my hands and takes a sip through my neon pink straw.

No one comes in between me and my caffeine before work.

I’m practically snarling, but my full hands keep me from snatching it back. She goes in for another sip.

“Did you make this?” she asks. I nod. “What is it? It’s delicious.”

I’m not too angry to notice that she doesn’t usually like to talk to me this much.

“Strawberry black tea.”

She goes in for a third sip, and I grind my teeth.

“I’ve been ordering the wrong drinks my entire life.”

“Well then go do that,” I snap. “This one is mine.”

She laughs at me, but hands it back.

“That’s not very sunshine of you,” she says, blatantly eyeing the box of tampons in my hand.

If I had the free finger, I’d flip her off. —

“Mom!”

“Oh!” She jumps up, dropping the hand lotion she’d taken from my bag. The thing is sitting open in front of her, and there are other items of mine scattered on the counter around it. “Goodness, you scared me!”

“Why are you digging through my stuff again? We talked about this,” I groan.

She holds up the lotion again, and waves it in front of me.

“The scents in this stuff are not good for your skin,” she chides. “And you don’t have any sort of protection in here, where’s that pepper spray we got for you?”

I adore my mother. I know that everything she does is with love and concern. I’m so lucky that both of my parents have always taken such good care of me, even as an adult. They both give so much, and they both accept me for every little piece of who I am. I could have it so,somuch worse.

But my mom and I have always struggled with boundaries. She’s the nosiest person I know.

I remember alotof arguments from when I was a teenager. Getting my first phone was not easy, when I couldn’t set it down anywhere without her picking it up to look through it. I’m well aware she wanted to check that I was being safe, but it was so hard on me at the time.

It’s still hard sometimes even now, but we’ve made some slow progress. As far as I know, she hasn’t snooped on me in a while. I’m sure the urge was building up for some time, and this was bound to happen again sooner or later.

“This is one of those things we talked about. I’m not okay with you digging through my things.”

“I’m only making sure–”

“I know, I know,” I interrupt. “Just ask me next time.”

It’s wishful thinking.

“Fine, fine. But you need to carry that spray with you!”