She pushes her hair behind her ear as she looks out at the passing scenery by the car window. Trees that have leaves with different shades of green, some of them already yellow from the beginning touch of autumn. Small, cozy shops that each have one or two people inside them, along with cashiers with friendly smiles on their faces. Groups of friends laughing as they hold bubble teas or iced coffees in their hands. Even though her family drives home from school using the same route every day, somehow there's always something different to discover. For today, it's a middle-aged woman walking her dog, appearing to be in a rush somewhere. She cranes her head to try to see what breed the dog is. She feels close to identifying the breed, but becomes distracted by two words.

"Something's wrong."

 

She brings herself to look at her mother, who had just spoken. Both of her hands are on the steering wheel, but instead of her eyes being focused on the road ahead of her, they are staring at the rearview mirror. Staring at her. She glances back at the road every now and then, but her eyes keep finding a way back to her daughter. The girl shifts uneasily in her seat, dread filling her stomach as she quickly realizes the reason for the incessant staring.

"Honey, you haven't said anything this entire ride," her mother says. "Is everything okay back there?"

"Yes, I'm fine," the girl replies, quickly turning her head back to face the window.

"Are you sure?" her mother presses on. "You've been so quiet, I don't know if it's normal to be this quiet—"

"I'm fine Mom, really."

"Are you sure? Did anything bad happen at school today? Was there a hard test or something? Should I take you to see a therapist?"

"Mom, seriously," The girl bites her lip, hard, as she tries to hide her growing frustration with her mother. "I'm fine. There's nothing to worry about."

"If you say so."

The girl sighs, fighting the temptation to roll her eyes. She presses her thumb into her palm. This was probably the millionth time her mother had a conversation with her that involved constantly worrying about how quiet she was. She usually felt guilty for having feelings of annoyance whenever her mother acted like that; she believed she should've been grateful for having a mother that was very protective and concerned about her, since parents like that seemed to be rare. Most of her friends' parents never showed the level of concern her parents had shown her. They could stay out as late as they wanted, and their parents wouldn't even bat an eye.

But she only wanted that level of concern when there was something to actually be concerned about. Whenever her mother talked to her like there was something wrong with her for being so quiet, looked at her like she was some sort of freak...she felt like she would suffocate. That usually set her in a bad mood, even when she was completely fine to begin with.

She starts humming the tune to her favorite song as she returns her focus to the passing scenery, but it isn't as appealing anymore. Fragments of her mother's words repeat themselves in her head, distracting her from paying close attention to every detail of her surroundings. Although the music doesn't completely erase the previous conversation from her mind, it helps soothe her. Takes her away from the world that's so keen on judging her.

Suddenly, she feels someone trying to stick an earbud in her ear. She starts to hear her favorite song play, the guitar just beginning to set in. She then feels a squeeze of her hand, warmth seeping into it.

Her sister. The one person in the world who understood her. Despite being almost the complete opposite of her, her sister was the only one who understood how she felt, how to comfort her. She gave her her favorite song to listen to, and provided her consolation without speaking a single word, or forcing her to speak at all.

She turns to her sister and smiles, and her sister smiles back at her. She squeezes her hand tighter.

The music plays on.