Fiction?

Miss I was holding a blank notebook, pretending to read it. I was only half paying attention to the made up adventures, when the story took an interesting turn:
"Then the little girl say, 'Momma, why can't you LOOOOOVE Me? Why you gotta be angee?"
(A look out of the corner of her eye).
Here's the thing, Miss I, I will always love you, even if I'm angry. Even if you feed the dog refried beans. Under the table. Off of a fork.
But I'm probably not going to be happy about it . . .