[His Aunt Sonia. He... remembered even less of her. A shoulder, the cut of her jaw as she held Padma, bounced some of the fuss from him at his first birthday. (Was it a red or a blue dress, he can't remember now..) He'd lied once, to Padma, when they were both children, and he wanted to know what his mother had been like.
He'd pulled clumps out of the grass, mixed a fantasy with what Aral remembered of his own mother, and the few little details he actually knew. It had cheered the younger boy, given him a little bit back. Facing her, now, he could feel every inch of his throat as he swallowed. He wanted to apologize in some way, but couldn't.]
I'm afraid I didn't get to know her well. There were hard times.
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He'd pulled clumps out of the grass, mixed a fantasy with what Aral remembered of his own mother, and the few little details he actually knew. It had cheered the younger boy, given him a little bit back. Facing her, now, he could feel every inch of his throat as he swallowed. He wanted to apologize in some way, but couldn't.]
I'm afraid I didn't get to know her well. There were hard times.