They had been such needy children, small arms wrapped around adult knees, faces buried into necks when held, voices constantly calling her name.
But adulthood had changed them, hardened their soft edges and built walls around them. She missed hearing the word mama, disliking the perfunctory sound of mum. She missed small bodies clambering into weary laps. She missed the noise.
The phone rang, piercing the unwelcome silence.
“Hello?”
“Mum? It’s me. Are you free to talk?”
A sob down the line. Her heart swelled with gratitude.
“Of course I am. What’s happened?”
“Oh mama. Where do I begin?”
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