Short Story: School Days
The smell of Milo hit him before he even stepped into the room. It was the smell of school days. Of mountains of homework. Of his parents watching him and his siblings like prison guards so they didn’t escape before they completed all their exercises. Of mugs of Milo brewed as bribery to convince them to stay a little longer and write a little more.
He took an involuntary step back before he remembered. He wasn’t the one with endless piles of homework now.
Schooling a schadenfreude grin into a more commiserating smile, he stepped inside.
“I don’t want to write anymore.”
“My hand’s going to fall off.”
Ah. It was nice to be a grownup.