09-02-2008, 03:01 AM
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_____His voice was so very different than what she was used to hearing. It didn't have the wonder or the tinged edges of sadness that she recalled; it was weak and wary, lost in a sea of haze and static that she could neither see nor hear. And it rightfully pierced her heart in a way she deserved—he thought she was his mother and his mother was the last thing Corona wanted to think about—but also stirred desire in her as well. She wished she could have called out for her own mother and have her be right there, but she couldn't be there. Her mother was dead and gone in every regard that she knew of and for all she knew (and not cared), so was his. “No… no,” she returned, “it's your sister. It's Corona.”
_____His voice was so very different than what she was used to hearing. It didn't have the wonder or the tinged edges of sadness that she recalled; it was weak and wary, lost in a sea of haze and static that she could neither see nor hear. And it rightfully pierced her heart in a way she deserved—he thought she was his mother and his mother was the last thing Corona wanted to think about—but also stirred desire in her as well. She wished she could have called out for her own mother and have her be right there, but she couldn't be there. Her mother was dead and gone in every regard that she knew of and for all she knew (and not cared), so was his. “No… no,” she returned, “it's your sister. It's Corona.”