Disenchanted
"Sweetie," she said, handing me the dishtowel and plunging her hands back into the soapy water, "I don't think you heard me. I didn't say you shouldn't date him. I said you can do better."
"But, Mother, he makes me happy! What could be more important?"
"Money," she answered, pausing to study her wrinkled fingers.
-by Edith Cummings
