She enters as a ghost would: her steps are not audible, and she has a way of slipping from your gaze that makes you wonder whether she was not just a momentary illusion, a trick of the light that glinted off a polished surface, perhaps a reflection of the snow outside the window
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But then he makes an effort to smile because of her greeting. "Thank you. I am honored. You are his mother, aren't you?"
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"Yes, I am - and then I am not. I departed my body soon after his birth." That is not said without regret.
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