Copy of my mother

He points out, holding both in his hands. "It doesn't really matter, really, where it lands." "You choose," he smiles, in command. "I would take bland." "Bland?" he looks at me, one eyebrow raised high. "Yeah," I step to the fridge, no lie. I take it out, no need to stand by. "If I want to mix it, I could try. And bland is fine for me," I reply. "You lost weight, you know," he states. Why doesn't it seem like a compliment of late? Why can't I say thanks, why hesitate? "I know," I murmur, avoiding his gaze. "I know everyone loses weight in their ways." "Yup," I say, a bit saddened by the fact, "Everyone does, some days more, some days lacked." I take it in the wheel, a quiet pact. Yup. Some days more. Some days less, that's the score.