She stood by the window looking in the distance for herself. "I hear people say beautiful things about their mothers..." She turned to look at me. There was nothing to say to put out the chaos starting on her face. "I never did have a mother. As a young adult, I learnt too soon to be a mother and a husband to women whose husbands did not care..." She continued.
Somehow, she had grown old too early. When you look at her from behind, she looked like a beautiful girl, but her front view reminded you of your grandma; remember when she came into the room wrapped in her favourite wrapper.
"Even my mother forgets that I am her child." She added.
She turned to return to the window like she forgot something. "I am tired of caring..." Wiped the tears ruining her make up. "See the beautiful sun is retiring behind that cloud... A cloud of doubt, maybe. Seems it is about to rain again... see, even the sun is scared of the rain..." She said like one who has no care for beauty. If she did, she would have noticed the beautiful scene coloured by the gods...see how beautiful the cloud looked.
She turned to look at me like she had forgotten I was sitting in the same room with her and that we had been engaged in a conversation before now...
"Even the cloud is full of doubt" she said like a barren woman wondering in her fleeting thoughts.
"What were we talking about please?"
"Nothing" I said.
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