Someone: Who was she?
Me: My first love, who filled me with love and memories. Even when all I had was an empty hand, and only could weep….
Someone: Then why she left?
Me: She lived within me, as always did. Sought too long, answerless.
After all, she is my mother, who never leaves.
But she had to answer to the last truth.
(The end of a brief talk with someone and a half-cooked smile.)
