The voice wasn't the one she was expecting -- and besides, as Lee gathered her thoughts she realized that her mother couldn't possibly be there.  The woman was long dead, though the memories Lee had of her were comforting.  "I'm sorry, I...I thought you were someone else.  My mistake."  

She shuddered in a sudden gust of wind that cut through her coat, hearing the whisper of leaves dancing down the road.  The person before her didn't seem affected.

Their next question was a surprise, and perhaps under different circumstances Lee wouldn't have answered.  Certainly if she'd been thinking straight she'd be getting her cell phone, calling an ambulance or a friend to take her to the hospital.  Instead she considered.

"I've never really tried to put it into words," she said at last.  "But I guess it's like having a fresh chance each day, to do just a little more, or make a little change.  To keep trying.  For me, I feel most alive in the silent moment after finishing a performance, just after the music stops and before the applause starts.  It's a rush."  Lee paused, common sense asking why she was sharing this with a stranger.  But she trusted this person, without quite knowing why.  She could spare them a few minutes, surely.