She looks just like the girl in my dreams. I am a mother. The longer I look into her eyes, the more I feel it. Older than expected, I don’t care. She is mine. I want to sooth the sad look in her face. I want to make her smile.
I have not slept, being busy making phone calls and answering emails. I keep staring at her face, looking for clues. Who are you little one?
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