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The silence on the other end was instantaneous. It was the silence of a person who had been caught in a dark room when the lights were suddenly flipped on.
“James, don’t be so sensitive,” my mother’s voice chirped in the background, trying to regain control. “It was just a joke! We love you!”
“Love doesn’t look like a bar tab you hide from the person paying for it,” I replied. “And self-respect doesn’t look like me fixing this for you. Have a wonderful trip.”