Prompt: Memory
When she thinks about it hard enough, she can even remember how her mother smelt. When they were cuddled up together, Katie on her mother's lap, in her pyjamas, and Johanna read her a story; she'd lean her head into her mother's neck and breathe her in. Like somehow, subconsciously, maybe she knew she wasn't going to have her forever. She needed something solid to remember. She sighs slightly and tucks the bedcovers around her own daughter, shelving the book she's just read her away on the shelf. She wants her own girl to have the same memories to hold.