Where Ever You Go
“Got your tickets? Your ID, your…?” I fussed.
“Relax Mom! That’s the nth time you asked me that.”
“But I didn’t see you check anything even once!” I flared up.
“I have it with me.” He patted his pocket. “It’s not going to disappear…”
“You could check it just to humor me.” I was resentful.
“Like I could not go just to humor you?”
Hurt, I stared at him. “I never told you not to go!”
“Maybe not in so many words,” he admitted, “but your dark dire predictions…”
“I didn’t mean to discourage you.” I was stiff. “I was just trying to prepare you…”
“By scaring the life out of me?”
I looked around the room. “Doesn’t look like it.” I sniffed.
“Would you have been happy if I was?”
Ashamed I shook my head.
“Aww Mom,” He put his arm around me. “Don’t worry so much. Remember how worried you were when I went to boarding school?”
“I wasn’t worried then!” I protested. “I knew what was going to happen, where you were going, what you were going to eat, but now…”
“Even now you’ll know Mom. They’ve promised to do a live telecast of our life on Mars.”
Written for the Sunday Photo Fiction – a story in 200 words or less. Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting the challenge and the photo prompt. To read the other stories inspired by this prompt, click here.