A Short Story : A Story?

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I sat in my room, staring out the foggy window. All I could see was the endless trees covered in bright shades of red, orange, and yellow. I wonder what this year will be like… I wondered silently. Suddenly I heard footsteps climbing the stairs, breaking me from my thoughts. I thrust myself back under the covers, frantically entangling my legs. My door opened and my mother stepped into the room. Lightly she shook my shoulder, peeking through a squinted eye I could see she was still half asleep herself. “Jackelyn,” she sniffled, “get up, first day of school.” I sat upward and pretended to be tired. I yawned, “Mom you don’t sound good.” She shook her head, “Jack you worry ‘bout me too much honey.” “Well-” She cut me off before I could say anything else. “Jackelyn, for the love of God, it’s a head cold.” I looked down. “It’s-it’s just that dad…” She lifted my chin with a bony finger, “Look honey, I miss your father too, but you need to toughen up. I promise I’m not leaving anytime soon.” I groaned, I could never handle mushy stuff. “Ok get ready fuzz ball.” I raised my eyebrow, confused. “What?” She pointed at the mirror and shut the door behind her. I glanced over at it, and saw my black hair in a giant heap of fuzz. Turning away, I looked back at myself. I had my father’s brown eyes and black hair that I kept at my shoulders and my mother’s tall, bony body and pale complexion. Thinking about my father, my eyes welled and I turned away. My

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A Short Story : A Story?