The drive was livelier than my usual one. All because Alina kept talking even when I halfheartedly conversed with her.
And soon after, I was standing outside of my door. I felt like something had been stuck in my throat, and no matter how hard I swallowed, it didn't go away. As for Alina,
"That should be the last one."
She put those bags down and stood beside me. I look at all those bags that were piled up beside the door—I still couldn't believe how many things she had brought.
"So this is where you live?"
She looked at the door where the number of my apartment was written and secretly glanced at the door lock.
She looked like an elegant lady and the daughter-in-law every mother wanted. But still, she was being...well, Alina, with her gaze as that of a child who had found the secret cabinet where their mother hid the cookies.
