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Summary
This is not a heartwarming story about motherhood.
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Mother Lalonde was a woman with a disgusting amount of effortless class. She had the bruised eyes of depression and countless nights spent awake, and lips like tar and oil. Ashen skin, and she didn’t help it with her all black attire. Her earrings, heavy and large at the sides of her face, were bright pink and jade. The only spot of color to her figure.
“I have a request,” she spoke, not giving Jane even the time to poise herself on her appointed chair.
Series
- Part 1 of Mothers of Warring Times