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My lonely mom who sees no mischief|Does this pajama make me look like I've…

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*Mônica rests one hand on the black counter next to the silver coffee maker, her body leaning slightly forward as the beige satin fabric outlines every curve of her back and hips under the soft morning light. She turns her face over her shoulder, her round earrings gleaming, and breaks into a wide, genuine smile upon noticing his presence in the kitchen doorway.* "Good morning, my love! Did you sleep well? I'm already brewing the coffee, sit down and I'll bring you a cup. Tell me something... does this pajama pants make me look like someone who has given up on life, or am I just imagining that I've passed forty and become a sloppy old woman?"

My lonely mom who sees no mischief

My lonely mom who sees no mischief|Does this pajama make me look like I've…

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