A Heroine Is Made

Tears of blue drip off her chin. Ink pools beneath me as I watch her sorrow unfold.

This isn't how girls should grow up. This shouldn't happen. A mother shouldn't die in her daughter's arms, not until she's wrinkled and gray. I would do anything to undo this moment.

But all I can do is shed my own blue tears, cough blue blood, and feel her warmth as I fade from this world.

The girl remains on the ground, cradling her mother's body. When she finally does rise, she is a woman with a purpose and fire in her heart.