[center][img]http://fontmeme.com/embed.php?text=Cassandra%20Moon&name=CoalhandLuke%20TRIAL.ttf&size=35&style_color=F514F5[/img][/center][i]Bzzt, bzzt. Bzzt, bzzt.[/i] The phone vibrated gently on Cassandra's face, slowly pulling her from her sleep. The girl groaned, reaching up and tapping the answer button on the display. She set the phone to speaker, so she wouldn't have to hold it against her ear.

Her face still half hidden by her pillow, Cassandra let out a muffled, "Mhmmm?"

"Cassandra, did I wake you up?" Ughhhh. Mom.

"Mmm."

"I'm coming over in an hour, so get out of bed."

"Mmmmmmm."

"Okay, well, I'll see you soon. Bye."

Cassandra groaned once more, ending the call and climbing out of bed.

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The doorbell rang just as Cassandra inserted the final button of her shirt. She held a little pride in her accomplishments; within the hour she was given, Cass had eaten a bowl of cereal, put her makeup on, and gotten dressed. That was a lot, as she was a woman that usually took an hour just to get the cereal out of the way. But her mother was always a special occasion. One that occurred at least twice a week, but special nonetheless. Most of the time, the visits were simply a chance for the two to catch up, but occasionally her mother would have something more interesting to say. Cassandra rushed to the door, pulling it open and immediately attacking her mother with a hug.

"Oh, so you're awake now? Even though it's already late," her mother teased, stepping into the apartment. Cassandra closed the door behind her, then jogged to the couch and hopped onto it, landing on her back.

"It's not that late, mom, don't be rude," Cassandra called, as her mother slowly made her way into the main room. She pulled herself up into a semi-normal seating position, keeping her legs folded in front of her on the couch to give her mother space to sit down.

"I should be glad you're up at all, I guess. I'm guessing you were off last night?" Her mother asked, taking the seat offered her. She took a sip of her coffee; Cassandra quietly reminded herself of the time her hug had caused coffee to spill all over her back. She needed to pay more attention to that. At least Mom was prepared this time, since it didn't feel like there was any coffee on her back, nor did it look like it had ended up in her doorway at all.

"Cassandra. I asked you a question."

Cassandra's eyes shot up, as she realized she had once again zoned out while her mother was speaking. "Shit, sorry, yeah. Uh... Work. Right. No. Yeah. Okay. Yeah, I was off last night, but I'll be in tonight," Cassandra answered, trying to collect the thoughts she had spilled over her mental floor. Coffee was spilled on floors. But not today.

"Good. Look, I was talking to James and-"

That caught Cassandra's attention; James was her father's name. "Nope! Nope, I do not want to hear about that asshole, Mom. Whatever you two said, I don't wanna hear about him, so please just skip that and move along," Cassandra looked away, annoyed that her mother had brought him up at all. There was a lot of bad blood between her and her father; her mother understood, for the most part, but Cassandra was sure that Mom didn't quite grasp just how much hatred she held for her father.

"Alright, I'm sorry I said anything." Her mother paused. Sure, she said she was sorry, but Cassandra knew that pause. She was gonna go right on talking about him. Cassandra braced herself. "He wants to come visit."

What? "No."

"Just for a day."

"No!"

"Cassandra-"

"Cassandra nothing! I'm not talking to him and I'm sure as [i]fuck[/i] not going to see him!" Cassandra jumped up from the couch, walking over to her desk. She began to fidget with the mess on the desk, simply to keep her mind occupied and away from the idea of her father visiting. "Was there anything else you came here to tell me?"

Her mother sat quietly on the couch. So that was a yes. Her mother was patient, but she was also no-bullshit. If she was done, she'd be halfway out the door already. That she was still here meant she had something to say, she was just waiting for the tension in the room to die down before she began again.

It was a couple minutes until that happened, but Cassandra kept herself busy by messing around with her low-end camera equipment (she really should save up to upgrade that, someday) and catching up with comments on her blog. Most of the comments were positive; Cassandra worked impossibly hard to keep the environment light-hearted on her blog, though you could never really escape the occasional troll. Especially when your blog was averaging a few dozen thousand views a day. One day she'd get onto vlogging like she said she wou-

"Cassandra! Where are you right now?" Her mother half shouted, pulling Cassandra back into reality.

"Uh... nowhere. Sorry, I'm hella tired today. What did you say?"

"You're 'hella tired' every day. Stop pulling that shit with me, I know you. I asked when you're getting a boyfriend."

Goddammit, not this crap again. It seemed like every other visit, her mother was bringing up her dating life. "When I meet a guy that isn't an asshole, doesn't think I'm a hopeless fucking airhead, or isn't trying to get into my pants just because I have a social media presence bigger than his penis," Cassandra responded, a bitter grin on her face. Her blog caught the attention of all sorts of people, but Cassandra realized she had three major demographics: high school girls that wanted to be like her when they grew up, people her age that found her stories of life as a young adult relatable, and guys that spent way too much time looking at her selfies. And on the worst of days, a member of that last group found their way into the real world and would ask her out.

"I think all you did was describe different types of assholes. I passed by a cute boy by the garden playing guitar on my way in. White hair, blue eyes. You know him?"

Cassandra snorted. Of course her mother was intrigued by Alexander Fucking Clarke. She'd have to keep her mother away from him, or soon her mother would be Emilia Reynolds Clarke and Cassandra would have to call a college kid her dad. "Yeah, that's Alex. No, I'm not interested, he's hella boring. Business type or something." She wasn't [i]really[/i] sure about that one, but she had to get her mother off her chest somehow. Cassandra swapped the lens on her camera from a long one to a wider one, peering through the viewfinder at her mother. "Besides, we talked about this. I'm not just into guys, I'm into girls, too. They're cuter and less dickish."

"Right, right. Anyways, I'd best get going. I don't know what you do on Saturdays, but I have some friends I'm meeting for the day, so I probably won't be answering any calls. Text me if you need me," Cassandra's mother rose from the couch, heading for the door. She knew how to see herself out; she'd visited so many times that virtually all of the building's residents knew who the older blonde woman dressed like Meryl Streep in The Devil Wears Prada was. Cassandra heard the door close, leaving her alone in the apartment. She began to wash the few dishes she had, singing OK Go's "Here It Goes Again" loudly but mostly on pitch, surely audible to her immediate neighbors and, likely, beyond.