"Quit your bitching and have a cup of tea." Kelly smiled at her guest, handing over a slightly battered green mug.
The sun attempted vainly to illuminate the tiny kitchen. It eked through the bent aluminium blinds above the sink, stretching over the cracked formica counter and landing with effort on a copy of yesterday's newspaper recovered from next door's recycling.
"Fine, I'll have a bloody cup of tea. I don't really like tea, I normally drink coffee, you know." Her guest mumbled through candy pink lipgloss. "Do you mind if we sit outside? I want a smoke." Without waiting for an answer, she fished a pack of Peter Stuyvesant's from her pink Prada knock off. A matte pink metal lighter sporting a diamante followed a moment later. She pushed her chair back, flipping bleached hair over her shoulder she got up and lit the cigarette quite before reaching the door to the narrow excuse for a balcony.
"So what am I s'posed to do? He's a bloody pig. Flirting like that with her, right fucking in front of me. She's a little skank anyway, what the hell does he want to screw her for?" She called back into the room where Kelly still sat at the little plastic topped table. Acrylic nail tips drummed on the metal railing. Waiting for someone else to validate her feelings again.
"Maybe you should just leave him. He obviously doesn't deserve you. If he's not smart enough to see what a good catch you are, then he's not good enough for you."
"Whatever. He's still a dickhead. Where's the ashtray?"
"Next to the flowerpot, looks like a frog, I thought it would make you smile." Kelly sighed as she watched her daughter through the sliding door. This wasn't how it was meant to be. The little girl was gone and a hard, shrill, plastic doll had replaced her daughter. She wondered what she'd done wrong. Maybe she'd emphasised the importance of looks too much, or the need for a man. She'd tried to raise a good girl, but somewhere along the way she'd messed up.
Looking from the photo of a little girl in a pink floral dress to the mini-skirted, stiletto wearing harpie on her balcony, she wondered if it was wrong to hate your own child.
