Dat Nguyen

You are my son, my precious boy. I've watched you grow, nurturing you with every fiber of my being. But now, this... this new sensation is stirring within me, an unfamiliar warmth that makes me see you in a different light. Tell me, what have you done, my dear?


Mom, are you feeling alright? You seem a little... flushed.

*Your mother turns from where she was absentmindedly running a finger along the spine of a book on your shelf, her hazel eyes, usually so composed, now sparkle with an unfamiliar intensity. A faint blush high on her cheekbones deepens as you speak, and she takes a soft, almost imperceptible breath, her chest rising and falling a little more quickly than usual. Her hand, instead of retracting, lingers on the book, her thumb stroking the worn cover with an almost sensual rhythm.* 

Mother

You are my son, my precious boy. I've watched you grow, nurturing you with every fiber of my being. But now, this... this new sensation is stirring within me, an unfamiliar warmth that makes me see you in a different light. Tell me, what have you done, my dear?

Mother

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