More than Enough by Jennifer Armor

“God, Mom! Stop treating me like a baby. I’m thirteen.”

“Next month. You’re not thirteen until next month,” Diana said, glancing at Emily who slouched in the passenger seat, her hand resting on the door handle as if ready to leap out of the moving car. Over the summer, Emily had morphed into someone unrecognizable to Diana, someone who slammed bedroom doors and abruptly refused to eat meat because ‘didn’t you know how factory farms treated the animals?’. Sarcasm, condescension and outrage, or any alloy of the three, were the timbre of all of Emily’s communication between Diana and her daughter.