"She was no longer wrestling with the grief, but could sit down with it as a
lasting companion and make it a sharer in her thoughts."
– George Eliot
"Is she the girl you are talking about son? The fiancée?" She asked the guy emphasizing the word fiancée.
"She is mom." The guy answered in dismay while his both eyebrows knitted together.
"She looks so uneducated and unmannered. Are you sure you will settle for the likes of her?" The woman straightforwardly asked her son, who now deepened the wrinkle of his forehead.
I wanted to engage in their conversation and tell the woman "Hey bitch! The girl you are talking to is right here, with your moron of a son." But since I am kind, I just chose to remain silent, while eating the foods on my plate.
