CORA
Cora can’t fathom what is happening, but a great peace fills her. It’s the feeling only a mother can give her child. Protection and love. Security.
Mom points. A montage of memories flash and flicker before her as if on an old movie reel. Her young self on a stage.
“I want to be a ballerina . . . zoo keeper . . . candy store owner . . . when I grow up.”
The image of herself matures with each rendition. Candy store owner becomes veterinarian becomes archeologist becomes veterinarian again becomes writer becomes . . . darkness.
A dark cloud drifts over Remembra. Cora looks up at the sky, then back at her mom.
“You met Doug,” Mom says. “You wanted to be his wife. Deep down you knew this darkness. I know you did.” Her smile doesn’t falter. “Love is blind that way, isn’t it?”
Cora n
