Mother’s day
Robin had spent so long at sea, and further completing important missions for the Revolution, that she had not indulged in her usual habit of observing others in a domestic setting. She had thankfully learned the abilities to survive and get food for herself, but there was always one thing that she couldn’t get.
She was thirty years old, clever, guarded and exceptionally good at controlling her emotions. And yet, her throat tightened when she glanced up from her book to see a woman readjust her daughter’s sunglasses and ruffle her hair. It was clear to anyone that this little girl had her mother’s undivided attention.
“I want - I want!” the girl exclaimed, bouncing on the tips of her toes as she scanned the menu.
(“Mommy please answer me!” )
“Home rice!”
“…”
Robin glanced at them with the look of someone starved for something other than food; dry lipped- but Robin’s limpid eyes were slowly gathering moisture. She hurriedly slipped her sunglasses back over her eyes before anyone noticed.
