Swiftcurrent Creek daffodils

she is similarly blunt, a fact Dawn appreciates. she nods, accepting the words, though can not stop the brief burn of anger, sharp and sudden like an elastic band snapping back. she understands, knows the pressure that comes with motherhood, and yet—she'd willingly left. 

but she's projecting, and the past is better left to lie. she has questions, but they are the sort that blur the line between outrage at long-gone past wrongs and at herself, aditya. "I'm alright," she says after a moment, motioning backward. "Sunny's been reunited with his children, and he's—he's doing fine." he wasn't getting better, really, so she supposed that was the most she could say on his part. 

"how long have you been back? do you live nearby?" she asks, for this is the second time they've crossed paths in the valley; more than random chance.