She's no longer that carefree and cheerful woman from yesterday, her words sound realist, her expression a blank stare. "You can just say it. I know you're curious how I killed my mother."
"Well... I wasn't going to say anything, but it does seem a little... uncharacteristic of you."
"It's not as dramatic as it sounds. During my birth, my mother contracted a disease. The exhaustion of having a child prevented her from being able to fight of the disease. That's why, a mistake was born at the cost of an angel."
While it may be the right answer, right now is probably a bad time to flaunt my good and bad is subjective philosophy.
"Do you think your mother would consider you a mistake?"
"It doesn't matter, she's dead, and I'm alive. It's simple really, an exchange, a useless flawed person was born, costing the world a person who was kind to all, a person who deserved to live."
