“Good morning,” my mother joyfully sings to me as I walk down into the kitchen.

“Good morning,” I groan falling into my seat at the kitchen table waiting to leave.

“Are you hungry?” She asks hopefully.

“No, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? You weren’t home for dinner last night and...”

“I’m sure. It’s fine,” I interrupt.

A solemn look takes over her face. “Sweetheart... you have to eat something.”

“It’s fine mom. I’m eating. Don’t worry about it.” I storm out of the kitchen into the garage making sure to slam the door on the way out. Quickly, I jump into the passengers seat and plug in my earbuds before she can walk out and get another word in.