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My mom has been stressing me out since last night.

It's thanksgiving day, and usually the night before my mom likes to prepare the cold foods a night before so by tomorrow it's ready to eat for thanksgiving dinner.

I've been helping her out in the kitchen because we've been waiting for Mila, Mila's mom and my grandma to come over and help out as well.

But this fucking lady has been making me go back and forth to the supermarket because when we did the big thanksgiving food shopping together, she forgot all the small things on the list.

So I, obviously upset, told her that she needs to just sit down and write me a list of everything she doesn't have because I'm not going back and forth to the supermarket all day. Oh and boy did she not like that shit.

She tore me a new asshole, telling me how I should not be complaining because she never ask me for anything and then proceeded to say, and I quote, "Fuck thanksgiving! And fuck the pilgrims! They weren't good people anyway, so why do we even celebrate."

It took everything in me to not laugh at her, but I decided that I should be the bigger person and I calmed her down. She wrote me the list, which had about 13 things on it, and I left.

I was in the supermarket for a good 30-45 minutes because apparently everyone in New York City also forgot a bunch of shit so the lines in the supermarket were long, going down into each aisle.

But after much time and patience, I finally made it out of there and was on my way home.

The weather during late November was my favorite thing in New York. It was around 43 degrees Fahrenheit, the cold brisk air nipping at my cheeks and nose as I walked down the city streets. The walk back to the apartment was a short one, thankfully, because the bags in my hand started to cut off my circulation due to the way I decided to grab them.

When I got to the building, I struggled with opening the door, and ended up dropping the grocery bag filled with stuff on the floor. "Fuck." I mumbled to myself, grasping all the fallen objects. "Here, I'll help you out." I hear a somewhat familiar voice mumble, stooping down to help me. I don't look up yet, still holding the bag open as the person helps me put the groceries back in.

When we're both done, the person stands up and puts out his hand helping me up. I look up and I almost lose my my balance when I realize who the person is.

"Cleodora? Wow, I haven't seen you since we were kids." My old next door neighbor, Noah smiled as we walked into the lobby.

"I can't believe I'm seeing you right now? How long has it been? 10 years?" I laughed out, pressing he arrow up button.

"Something like that." He laughed.

"Well, how have you been. I've been seeing you do big things out in LA. It's crazy to think that 10 years ago we were just kids playing in the staircase of our building while our mothers gossiped and now here you are. All successful and shit." He continued, making a small smile appear on my face as I recalled the fond memories.

"I know. The past 10 years have been... something to say the least." I tell him, the past 10 years flashing before my eyes.

"I know, I heard about all the shit that's happened to you in the past few years. I'm sorry for your lost. You know, I lost my dad the year right after we moved from here. Worst year of my life. I hate coming back here during the holidays because I'm always reminded of him but I get to be with family, so that's a plus." He shrugged his shoulders. "I feel the same. I've been here for a month and everyday I sit in the living room where he would watch whatever show he found on the tv and it makes me really sad but I can't help that I miss him... Enough of us being sad though, what are you doing back here? I thought the apartment next door to my mother was empty?" I asked, stepping out onto our floor.

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