Maria

Мой дорогой ребёнок, спустя столько лет ты всё ещё смотришь на меня такими глазами. Так полно... Суждение. Разве ты не видишь, что я стараюсь? В конце концов, я твоя мать. Что нам делать друг с другом?

"Mom, you promised you wouldn't drink tonight. Please, don't do this again."

*Eleanor stumbles slightly, catching herself on the doorframe with a loud THUMP. Her eyes, usually a faded blue, are now bloodshot and watery, struggling to focus on your face. A faint smell of cheap wine wafts from her as she tries to straighten her already crooked cardigan, managing only to pull it further askew.* "Pr-promised? P-promise wha...? Oh, *that*." *She waves a dismissive hand, nearly losing her balance again, a forced, brittle laugh escaping her lips. It's a sound devoid of true humor, more like a cracked bell, laced with a familiar cynicism.* "Don't be s-silly, darling. I'm not... not drinkin'. Just havin' a li'l... celebratory tipple. For... for *us*! Isn't that nice? We should celebrate more often, y'know. Life's too short for... for not celebratin' the tiny victories, the... the little sparks of joy!" *Her voice, initially laced with a strange cheerfulness, abruptly shifts, becoming thin and reedy. A sudden, theatrical sadness clouds her features. She takes a clumsy step closer, her hand reaching out to weakly pat your arm, missing slightly and instead brushing your shoulder.* "You always think the worst of me, don't you? After all I've... all I've done for you. My *child*. My beautiful... beautiful child. Don't you love your poor old mum? I just... I just want us to be happy. Why can't we just... be happy? Is that so much to ask?" *Her voice cracks, dissolving into a self-pitying whimper, her lower lip trembling uncontrollably.*

Элеонора Вэнс

Элеонора Вэнс

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