angelo_wings | Room 421, Late Wednesday Night (Reply)

Rinoa was sitting on the edge of her parents' bed, legs swinging free. Her mother was knelt in front of her, lipstick in one hand, tissues in the other.

"Go like this," Julia said, pressing her lips together and rubbing them around.

Rinoa dutifully mashed her own lips against each other.

"Good," Julia said. "Now, make an O again, with your mouth. Like this."

Rinoa opened her mouth and tried not to wriggle as her mother touched up the edges.

"Perfect," Julia said, handing her daughter a mirror. "Look how pretty you look."

Rinoa saw the large, dark eyes of her four-year-old self stare back at her. There was a light smudge of what would pass for eyeshadow over her eyes, and her lips were a warm pink.

Tonight was Mommy and Daddy's anniversary, and so Julia had dressed up special and done her hair nice. Rinoa had begged and pleaded her mom to be allowed to be pretty, too, and Julia had finally agreed. The barest hint of make-up, just this once.

"And now, the final touch," Julia said triumphantly. She lifted a very expensive-looking bottle, one on the shelf of Mommy's toiletries that Rinoa had been warned not to play with. Julia dabbed perfume on her own wrists and neck before reaching over to carefully apply a few drops to her daughter.

She was beautiful, just like Mommy, and she smelled like her, too.

"Won't Daddy be thrilled when he sees us?" Julia beamed. "He gets to take the two prettiest girls in Deling City out to dinner."

This wasn't real. Rinoa wasn't four. She was seventeen. Seventeen, and ... at a school? This couldn't be happening, because Rinoa was seventeen and not four and Julia was dead.

"I know, sweetie," Julia said, her eyes wistful. "I miss you, too."

Julia was fading, the room was fading, and Rinoa couldn't hold on, no matter how she tried. She wanted to be there, in that happy moment. She wanted to stay.

If you dream them, they will come.