Her Mates' Touch
The voice, even though she wasn't quite one when she'd last heard it, resonated with a part of her deep inside.
The room was appointed with a couple of large armchairs and a small sofa strategically placed facing a large mirror. The mirror hung lower on the wall than what is typical, had an ornately carved wooden frame. She looked towards the mirror, in it, she saw her birth mother. Her mother's warm eyes and smile looked back at her with what appeared genuine concern and love. She had died young, at only twenty-seven, and the mirror captured that youth and vitality. Of course, Cooper thought, she never actually died by definition. There was familiarity in the face, the eyes. Cooper realized
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