The Tea-Time Clash

After a few moments of silence, Sally Glass looked eager to get talking.

She took it upon herself to place her hand onto her daughters. She smiled sweetly.

“Come dear, may I pour you some tea at all?” She asked, her voice syrupy sweet, too sweet to be real.

“No.” Asha replied simply, “I’m fine.”

“No, ‘thank you’?” Sally questioned, a tone of steel in her voice now, creeping in there. Her rosy red lips were pressed into a tight line now, clearly trying not to get what she wanted, for Asha to talk.

“No.” Asha replied simply. This, made Sally give out her famous, ‘You’ll tell me one way or another,’ look, to her daughter.

“I see.” Sally replied tightly. She then lent and poured some more tea into her own cup, all with her thin legs crossed and retaining her wealthy, and posh posture.

Asha did nothing but waited until her mother would talk again. The thing was, her and her mother never talked unless she had something to brag about in her writing. A new plot or characters mean streak.

“Now dear, about that fawn that’s outside, in the barn,”

This caught Asha’s attention right away. She sat up right then, her eyes wide