[Elicia opens the door, knowing full-well it's not her parents, but visitors—there are a lot of people visiting, offering snacks, offering apologies or stories or smiles. But no mama or papa. So even she doesn't know why her eyes grow wide and she just stares forward for a moment. First thing she sees are two hands holding each other, and she thinks it looks so familiar.
Her father would hold her mother's hand lovingly and they'd stand there, him taller than her, with that scratchy beard... Mama would be in her pretty dresses, smiling sweet, her voice kind and soft next to a louder, warm tone.]
Mama-?
[But it's not them.
And like many years ago, the surprise and pathetic hope drains out of her face, replaced with bitter disappointment, and then pain. Regardless of the people she's been glad to see today, it's never enough to remove the fact that she wants her parents more than anything else...]
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Her father would hold her mother's hand lovingly and they'd stand there, him taller than her, with that scratchy beard... Mama would be in her pretty dresses, smiling sweet, her voice kind and soft next to a louder, warm tone.]
Mama-?
[But it's not them.
And like many years ago, the surprise and pathetic hope drains out of her face, replaced with bitter disappointment, and then pain. Regardless of the people she's been glad to see today, it's never enough to remove the fact that she wants her parents more than anything else...]