Warmth part two

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Warmth part two

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The woman held her hands close to her side and started to tear up as she stated, “You remind me of a child I once had. I only wished I said goodbye to her while I had the chance.”

“A child, you say?” I was startled. “How long ago did you lose her?”

“It’s been three long years I’ve been without her. Yesterday marked the unfortunate anniversary,” the widow explained. “Her father left months prior without a family fortune for the two of us.”

“What did she look like?” I wanted to help so badly.

“She had eyes shining like a sea of aquamarine but hair as firm as brick,” the woman closed her eyes as she went into her memories. “This child was a precious one for sure; irreplaceable, in fact.”

I felt my own hair and noticed the long, tangled mess it had become. Then, I took a look at my eyes through an empty glass. They shined a brilliant azure that could light up a room within seconds.

“I-I believe,” I started as my knees shook, before I continued, “I believe I’m your daughter.”

“That’s impossible! Mother Nature took her into her bosom during that harsh winter. Are you saying that you, a poor child left in the cold, has survived for so long?” the widow was skeptical.

“I can’t say for certain, but it’s possible,” I stated. “I might just be the one you’re looking for.”

When I pulled my blanket around to get warm, I noticed a mysterious photo in one of the pockets. It was a black-and-white photograph that was worn but still had many of the important features intact.

“H-How? T-That was me a few years prior!” the widow started to connect the dots. “If it’s really true…”

I gave the woman a warm hug and cried, “Now, the two of us will never be alone!”

“You will really give up everything to be with me?” the widow hugged me tight in return.

The older woman tried to hold back tears to no avail. Like a waterfall rushing down, this woman seemed to have lost hold on her collected, quiet nature. It took several desperate attempts to get her to feel happiness once more.

Happiness can’t exist without a streak of sadness, and hope cannot be felt at its fullest without a touch of despair.

The end.

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