Second Scoreboard

"Hate the sin, love the sinner." ― Mahatma Gandhi

If looks could kill, Sia was sure Sergeant Dust would rip her apart. He was talking to his soldiers but kept his eyes off Sia. Daz whizzed by, handing out cigars to everybody. Sia rubbed her hands, waiting for hers. Not that she smoked, she just hated being the left one out.

The director marched into Sia's office. "Your mother's here."

"Who brought her here?" Sia snapped.

The director shrugged his shoulders. "She came by herself."

A flying wheelchair crashed into Sia's table. She pursed her lips together, feeling that an older version of herself was looking right in front of her. Sia couldn't bare the wrinkles and grey perm before her. "Mother, I'm working."

Sia's mother, Winnie Bucks eyes up to the sparkling glass of gin. "You drink when you're on duty?"

"No."

"Oh you left one for me," Winnie bounced in her chair. "How generous of you." Sia's morning drink vanished within seconds. "Where're your friends?"