Mother

My mother was so happy last week to hear Cynthia, Linz and I mocking each other's choice of reading material. Cynthia loves Bukowski, Linz loves Harry Potter, and I have a healthy appreciation for both. Linz began the argument by rawly imitating Bukowski's style. Cynthia retaliated by picking out JK Rowling's writing flaws. I contributed my minimally clever comments to whichever side I saw an opportunity within. My mother was shocked at first at our brutality, but soon that impression dissolved into hesitant delight.