“Are you okay, dear?” Auntie looked up from her grey metal filing cabinets, already at work first thing in the morning. “Still enjoying your early retirement? You look a little… I don’t know, drawn.”
Vesta took a slow sip from her coffee mug.
“I’m fine, Auntie.”
“You looked startled when I joked about your love of strong black coffee.”
“No regrets, dear?”
That night, Vesta dreamed of a little girl in a beautiful white hat and bonnet, growing up strong and black – and alone.
She woke with a heavy heart.