The new upscale apartment complex in our neighborhood had a graceful landlady with impeccable makeup.
My daughter loved the place, so my husband used my bank card to rent two rooms long-term for them.
The new renovations and all the food they ate without a care gave them constant rashes.
I kept urging them to come home, but they didn't take me seriously.
My husband said there were too many rules at home, while my daughter accused me of competing with her for men's attention.
They couldn't stand me.
They even hid irises, which trigger my asthma, in the bouquet they gave me on my birthday, killing me.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day the new apartments opened and the landlady tried to lure my husband and daughter in.
The fumes from the fresh renovations immediately brought out a rash on my delicate daughter's skin, but she shrugged it off, saying she could just take some allergy medicine.
This time, I said considerately, “Allergy medicine isn't expensive. Mom can stock up on plenty for you.”
