Only her eyes moved, and she looked upwardsas though seeking Divine Guidance. Her face was deadpan; her voice flatand apathetic when she spoke; calmly... quietly, and with a whole wealthof meaningful resignation:"I was afraid it would be something like that.You'd better put some clothes on.I think it's about time we had a talk."Disobedience was out of the question, so I put my vest and pants onover my corset, and followed these with my shirt and trousers. Motherstood by the door, watching me. ..Well, it would have been some sort of contact. Some acknowledgement of existence. I didn't think she deserved that.But now, lying on my bead and I can hear her voice. Or can I? I strain to hear it, suddenly focused for the first time in ages. It sounds concerned but as I struggle to decipher her words, it slowly drifts away. Words aren't needed to make me nervous, simply the sound of her voice makes my heart go nuts.After a few minutes of silence, I snigger to myself at the though of her. More

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