Annie’s expression fell from frustration to guilty regret. “It’s complicated”, she said to her daughter. “I’m older now, and wiser. And things were different then…”

She stared off, lost in thought for a second, thinking back to the day she first met Merimernim, the day she first sat with him and really got to know him, the day they decided to have a child together.

Misha watched her mother’s face patiently, realizing where her mind had gone, still waiting for an answer. Her short, stubby antenna absent-mindedly twirled a few strands of her extra-coarse, hermatto hair.

“Your father was a brilliant herm. Smart. I could sit and listen to him for hours. And I did many times.” Annie glanced back at the heavy book on the bureau. The thick dust from the old neglected binding had left streaks radiating from its edges. Her mind drifted again, thinking of the wealth of knowledge inside its pages.

“Mom,” interjected Misha, trying to force her mother back into the real world. “Do you want him to come back?”