✖ ✈ ♣
Perhaps somewhere deep down in her bones, she remembers. No one person could say for sure––– Aurora hides her sadnesses beneath a smile so bright and radiant one would never think to peek beneath… and anyway, she had only been five when it happened.
( no one who knows would think that she even understood what was happening, that the sight of her mother wasting away in that bed might be lost in the ocean of her eyes, that the neglect of her father might have told her it was a trivial matter. )
When she first glimpses the dark woman, those kind eyes grow wide in recognition. She remembers her, she remembers–––– a warmth, a presence, a shadow that would follow and watch over her. Part of her fancies the thought of a faerie godmother.
The image in her mind grows dimmer by the day. It’s one that she would reflect upon from her girlhood, but even dreamy Aurora knows it’s probably not as magical as it had seemed when first she experienced it. Even now, the woman she pictures is nothing more than ethereal light, an angel, someone who vaguely resembles her yet whose features are never fixed, always blurred just enough to make her a stranger, always changing the moment she makes sense of them.
Aurora’s never really had a mother, anyway. Not long enough for it to count.












