"Yes dear?" She looked over at her seven year old son. He was deep down in one of the cardboard boxes she had carried down from the loft. Spring cleaning.
He held up an old photo. A girl smiling, a beautiful girl smiling.
"Hey! Where did you find that!" she started out angry, then stopped herself and continued in a calmer voice: "That's Jason, eh, that's Jay. I thought I had gotten rid of all those photos."
"Who is she?"
"She used to be a friend of me, a close friend."
"She looks kind - and happy."
"Yes, she is kind. You would have loved her. And she is happy. Now she is happy."
"Can I meet her?"
"No! I won't let her!"
"I can't tell you. It's grown up stuff..."
"Oh, mum! Please! It feels like I know her."
"Where is she now?"
"I don't know. Someone told me she is in Canada. Can't we talk about something else? Did you find some toys in there?"
"When did you see her last?"
"Seven years ago, Jason. Seven years ago."
This one is for Jay.
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