For all teenagers. What do you think of my writing?

After retuning from school, Omar headed to the supermarket beside their house and bought his mother some milk and yogurt.

Omar, his mother and father lived in a narrow lane, standing between two buildings in Cairo, maadi. Among the broken pieces of furniture that filled the lane, bags of garbage lined the red-bricked walls, with cats tearing at them, searching for food.

At the end of the lane, Omar knocked at the door, and walked in. Two, silk rugs spread at the cement ground of the living room. Omar walked through a square hole at the wall to his left and there he found his mother lying in a narrow bed. The acidic smell of sweat emerged from the clothes that slung on the broken brackets of the three-legged wardrobe, standing to the side of the bed. They were his father’s clothes, the clothes that no one washed for months.

“I brought you lunch Mom,” Omar said, helping his mother sit up in her bed.

His mother, Amina, had hazel eyes under which black circles arched upwards. Her nose was small, with a big zit at the edge. As she sat up, she adjusted her white, sweaty shirt to cover her chest that bulged forward.

“Thanks darling,” she said, “how much have you paid?”

“Five pounds.”

“I don’t know how we’ll make it to the end of the week, your father said he’ll find a new job.”

“What? Will we leave the building, here?”

“No, he’ll find a job besides the building.”

Omar sat at the floor as his mother drank at the milk, directly from the plastic sack.
He can help his father with the money if he found a job himself. But what would he do with the school?

After his mother finished the milk and yogurt, he washed the yogurt tin and used it as a cup to drink some water from the main, building tap at the entrance of the other building.

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