Emerald found a way to be still and quiet, even while she sat in her empty restaurant. Since he left - he, meaning her son, Lake - she had not been able to bring herself to lift a single cutlery off any table. Perhaps, she should have asked at least one cleaner to wait behind. But there was only little she could blame herself for. After all, she did not know that the day would end with her son telling her he wanted nothing to do with her, and her falling to a chair with tears running down her eyelids.
His voice still echoed in her ears, she could still see the sizzling hatred in his eyes, burning with a fiery red and burnt orange flame that threatened to consume him and everything around him. She had melted at his stare. For more than twenty years, she had prepared over fourteen speeches
