She thinks to herself, that this definitely must be a sign of adulthood and independence. Office-going, rent-paying, buying one’s own soap, and a somewhat ill-stocked fridge. She smells the stale air of her barely lived in flat. That, she felt, was indeed the smell of liberation. From the tyranny of conformity that childhood often is.
She was becoming more adult by the day. Wearing colours her mother didn’t approve of. Eating healthy food when she could. Even sticking post-its on various surfaces. Free from the uniformity demanded from children. No uniforms, no matching shirts. She was even invited to a dinner party tonight. The glittering world of individuals.
On stepping through the door, she sees her host’s children. All in a row. Dressed to perfection. Their nails and hair all neatly suppressed into what they ought to be. Her heart tumbles. She adjusts her skirt. She really perhaps couldn’t escape her mother at all.