one mix tape for two broken hearts
48 hours in the life of two mother daughter break-ups (mix tape included)
It was a Wednesday night and I had just wrapped my post-shower pre-date towel around my hair when I saw the text.
“Mom. We broke up.”
Her cries were audible as I flung open the bathroom door and ran wet-footed down the hall where I found my teenage daughter in fetal position, sobbing beneath a frame of LED lights.
“It’s over,” she gasped between tears. “It’s all over.”
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