Neko



Let's go for a walk.

An abandoned short story that I started writing based off of a prompt that said
"Write a story that includes someone saying, "Let's go for a walk."

This is a fictionalized piece about myself and my mom going for a walk. It is not a re-tell of a real instance,
however, it does reference a real one (my reference to the what happened at the park).

This does not paint either my mom nor I in the prettiest lighting. I wrote this from a place of pain,
and I was aware even when I wrote it that I was becoming bitter and not the nicest person.

I also feel the need to point out that my mother isn't the worst all of the time,
and does have a kinder side. That side is not showcased in our park incident, though.



"It's such a nice day outside today." Mom remarks, turning the blinds open and shutting the light off.

I grab the creamer out of the fridge and pour it into my coffee. I didn’t think what she said warranted a reply.

"Let's go for a walk today." she says.

I look up at her.

"Do you want to?" she's asking me.

No, I don't want to. The last few times we took a walk together it became a screaming match at the park. Not so fun for me.

My dad lately has been telling me to try. Like I don't try. What does he know? There's no trying to be friends with someone who's trying to drive you mad.

If she tells him she asked me to take a walk with her, and that I said no, then he might think I'm the bad one.

"Sure," I manage a faint smile, "let me put my shoes on."

It can't be that bad anyway. I can't remember everything she said at the park the time before. Maybe it wasn't that bad. I don't remember all of it. I could be making it worse than it was in my head.

There was a lot of screaming, but I don't really remember what it was all about.

I feel ashamed and angry when I think of it, but I've come to realize what I feel doesn't really matter.

I'm going to shove it down, at least for now, if I think of it too long I'll be upset and then I'll be upset at her and she won't be able to understand why.

She's like that. I don't think she can understand that someone might be upset because of her actions, or that her actions might have any consequences at all. But, most of the time, they don't.

"Ready when you are." I call out to her from a different room.

"Alright, let me just get dressed first." she says behind her bedroom door.

I want to say 'what were you doing this whole time' but I know that's mean.

I don't say anything.

Several minutes of scrolling on my phone later, she comes out and meets me by the door. Asks me if I'm ready, like I wasn't waiting on her.

"Yeah."

We start taking a walk to get something to eat, but it's the walk I think she was more interested in. Personally I'm more interested in the something to eat. The walk's punctuated by several brief conversations about completely unimportant topics, and otherwise pretty silent, except for the crunchy leaves I stepped on.

I don't like to tell my mom about things I care about anymore. A lot of times she says things about them that I don't like. She might disapprove of something I did or said I would do, or she might say something rude about someone I care about. I don't know. I don't need the extra hurt.

Now we just talk about... anything surface deep, I guess. I'll tell her about a meme I read on the internet that I thought she might find funny. Or about a show I was watching. I might tell her about a video game I played. But, then, even that, sometimes, makes me feel too vulnerable. She doesn't deserve to know about the things I enjoy. I want to keep it just for me.

written by Ari Painful Writer