[ Maggie's quiet a moment, going through her memories, the ones she'd hoarded and asked Renae to confirm in the nights she couldn't go back to sleep, both of them lying on the floor of the little bedroom in that house by the river, listening for the fall of familiar steps coming back indoors.
Their mother wistfully ( sadly ) turning a pack over in her hands before she bent forward to press an open palm to her forehead, or outside on the porch, wisps of smoke winding up as she looked to a moon that wasn't always there. ]
It made her sad. But sad and quiet was always better than the nights she'd go run.
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Their mother wistfully ( sadly ) turning a pack over in her hands before she bent forward to press an open palm to her forehead, or outside on the porch, wisps of smoke winding up as she looked to a moon that wasn't always there. ]
It made her sad. But sad and quiet was always better than the nights she'd go run.