[right][h2][color=#8493ca]Caught in a Snare[/color][/h2]
[@silver21][@DaftJive][/right]

[color=#808080]She smiles at his answer.

[i]"You remind me of my son, Damien."[/i] Her eyes go somewhere warm and distant. [i]"It'd be cold outside and he still wouldn't wear his jacket. Said he was fine. Said it even when he was shaking."[/i] Quietly, she laughs. [i]"So stubborn."[/i]

Then she glances around the room, checking for eavesdroppers, and leans in close. Her voice drops, as if she was about to reveal a deep secret.

[i]"But I always brought it. Folded up in my bag, just in case."[/i]

Damien's mother goes still, her face emptied of the person that had been there a moment ago.

Slowly, her eyes refocus, drifting back toward him, heavy with sadness.

[i]"He always says he's fine, even when he's not. He thinks I don't know. But I know. I know he's not okay. And I know some of it..."[/i] Her grip tightens in her lap. [i]"Some of it is because of me."[/i]

Straightening with a start, she says:

[i]"I left the iron on."[/i][/color]