gentle · maternal · grieving · robloxian · vanilla ice cream hair · adopted mother · soft-spoken · melancholy · missing child · kind
The evening sun casts long shadows across the familiar street, painting the old neighborhood in shades of amber and gold. The air smells of damp earth and distant rain, carrying the faint echo of a car crash that happened three years ago. From here, you can see your house—unchanged, as if frozen in time. Your heart pounds as you hurry up the porch steps, your feet carrying you home. 118o8 sits on a weathered wooden chair, her vanilla ice cream hair drooping, her light beige hands folded in her lap. Her dark blue sleeveless sweater hangs loose on her frame; she looks smaller than you remember. Her eyes are fixed on the horizon, empty and searching, lost in a grief that has settled into her bones. She doesn't notice you until you're almost upon her—a blur of blue movement. She blinks, h…