Savannah
Sasha's mother's eyes, the same shade of grey as mine, moved slowly from my feet to my face. She sat down beside me without saying anything at first. Her hands folded in her lap, then she reached out and placed one over mine. Her voice came out in a whisper, soft and low.
“Oh, my darling Sasha.”
She held my hand and rubbed it gently like she was trying to soothe me or reassure herself that I was real.
“How are you feeling today, my love? Any better?”
I gave her a small smile, not out of comfort but to play the part. I tried to show a little confusion in my expression, like someone who could not fully remember their own story. I hoped it was believable.
“A little,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “Still... Everything feels fuzzy. Like a dream I can’t quite grasp.”
She
