Good night

Late last night I was sitting up talking on Skype in the kitchen with the door closed so that I wouldn't wake anyone up with all my chattering. I was quite absorbed in conversation when I heard a squeak from across the room.

My mother had crept down the hall nude as she is accustomed to do in the evenings and opened what the person on the other end of the line termed "the screaming door" a crack.

I looked up to see her hang her head out past the doorframe, squinting, no doubt wondering what I was doing in the kitchen with my computer late at night after the world was asleep behind closed doors.

"I'm on the phone," I whispered, and she stared at me for a bit before she crept back down the hall to bed. I'm sure she wonders about these sorts of things but she gave up asking a long time ago.

"Why are you whispering?" the voice at the other end asked.

"Nothing," I replied, "it's just my mother."