What's normal anyways?

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Once they got back home, which took the two only seven minutes, Cecile still seemed to be mad at her child.

"What is so hard about being normal?", she asked, her voice furious but broken.

Maran seemed to freeze in motion, they knew what happened the last time someone asked that question. They slowly replied:"It's not hard to be normal."
Their mother shook her head and asked:"Well, why don't you do it then?"

Maran sighed and replied:"Mom we've had this conversation before. I love being me and being different, showing the world what they are missing out on by following so many gender rules."
"It's not just that, is it?", Cecile asked, she had raised her voice to a furious screech, which caused Maran to change their whole body and mind to defend themselves.

Cecile continued to yell, maybe not noticing or not caring:"There is so much more to it! You just like the attention, don't you? Jasmina I love you, but this is crazy!"

Maran stood still for a moment, their body shaking, then they turned around towards the hallway.

"If you don't accept me, I can just leave. But to me it'll feel like you left me, like Dad did", the kid said in a cold but cracking voice whilst walking up to their room. They felt the first tears running down their cheeks, as Cecile snapped at them, yelling after the kid how ungrateful they were and other things.

Maran closed the door behind them, leaning against it. They still heard they mothers angry murmur, which caused the tears to finally flow free. The kid decided to ignore it and changed into a more comfortable outfit.
Then they got out a new canvas and started painting again, this time listening to music via headphones.

The kid painted a tall, thin man. They knew that the mind couldn't make up faces on its own, and they felt an odd sensation of familiarity as they looked at the painting, they had spent five hours on. There were purple streaks running through brown hair, giving it a dirty colored look. The skin also was some shade of purple, or at least seemed to be, since all of the clothing he wore was purple too. Battling that strange sensation, the kid looked all over the painting again. The purple dress pants were fitting neatly and the violet button-up had a golden patch on the left side of the chest. The man's eyes were purple as well as his lips, he looked as if he was cold.

The kid's eyes were fixated on the golden mark on the man's shirt, then they remembered the man from the store. As they checked over the whole painting again, they found the resemblance to be very accurate, Maran could easily imagine him wearing those clothes. He had worn a similar shirt when they saw him, maybe they just painted the same. But they were certain that the shirt he had worn today did not have a golden, shiny patch. Still it seemed to be familiar too.

They sighed and decided to get ready for bed. So they grabbed the bundle of clothing on their bed and left for the bathroom.

When the kid was walking down the hallway, they noticed that the door to the living room was open just a crack. That was odd, since Cecile usually kept most of the doors open, to make the flat seem bigger.

Maran was still mad at their Mother and decided to ignore it. When they passed the door, they heard voices on the other side. First their mothers. And then the kid froze with terror.

They heard the two talk but didn't understand a word they said. When the sofa creak, symbolising that someone stood up, they broke out of their trance and rushed to the bathroom, in hopes they would be able to lock the door before he was in the hall.

Just as they placed their shaking hand on the doorknob, they heard a voice behind them:"Jasmina."

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