All the way to Diamond Palace, Margaret's mouth never stopped moving.
From the snacks on the van, to the leather seats, to Leonel's life decisions—she commented on everything.
"Who buys imported chips? They taste the same as local ones! And what kind of crazy person spends money on car perfume?"
Leonel just leaned his head on the seat and muttered, "Mom, please. I'm begging you. Just… breathe once in a while."
But that was Margaret. Everyone in the van already knew her rhythm. Her rants went in one ear and out the other. Even Leon, her husband, was nodding half asleep beside her, humming in agreement at all the right times without really listening.
By the time the van stopped in front of Diamond Palace, Margaret had already gone through every topic from "kids these days" to "food portions shrinking in restaurants."
