I walk through the hallway of the packhouse having met with Hunter’s mother. My hea d a flurry of confusion. That was an interesting experience to say the least. She… or perhaps I should call her by her name now I knew it, Daria was a sweet woman, of that there was no denying. But she seems to believe her son is perfect. And she liked to speak of him... alot...
Our conversation is still bouncing in my head. She was full of cheer, evidently excited about the upcoming ceremony. She was adamant she would like my input for potential ideas for the ceremony, but when I told her I was not experienced in orgainsing such things and perhaps it was better left to her, she looked aghast at me. Urging harder for my involvement. So, once more I tried to explain that I was merely happy to be more in th
