I often wonder if she was real.  If she lived here, slept here and played here.

Then I wonder if she was loved here.  Could she have been loved here, by me?  If she was, does she still know I love her?  Unless…  unless I am not real.

I hope I’m not real., that no one misses me when I don’t arrive on time.  When my words don’t comfort.  When my mere appearance causes anger and pain.  I don’t want to be real.

I don’t want to be that person.

I can’t be real.

No one real should hurt the people they love.

No one should.

But, were they ever really loved at all?

**********

Bette wakes with a jolt, pain visible on her drawn features.  Throwing an arm over her eyes she breathes deeply.  Once.  Twice.  Three times.  In and out.  Slowly.  Trying to calm her racing heart and tears just below the surface.  Just below.

She dreamt again.  She always dreams.  She wishes she would stop.  Prays she would.

She looks over on her dresser, a photo.  Only a photo.  She was real, and she was here, in my arms.  A photo doesn’t lie.  My Angel.  So young, so very young.

Does she miss me?

Does she know me enough to miss me?

Does she…

Does she… even remember me?

She shakes off her thoughts and picks up the photo in a carved silver frame.

“I miss you baby.”

She traces the photo, marvelling at herself.  She was smiling, looking down with joy at the life she was holding.

“Mama B loves you baby.”  Tears start to roll down her face.  She doesn’t brush them away.  It’s the only time she knows she is real, and she doesn’t want to let go of it – yet.  Not while she is looking at her baby.

“One day I’ll say that so you can hear it baby,” she sighs “one day”.

**********

Kit  tiredly walks into the Planet.  She looks around hoping to see Alice.  She hadn’t had a chance to talk with her in the last few days and she missed her.  Mostly everyone else had blown to the 4 corners of the world and a few places in between.