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She hands Peyton hersunglasses.

Peyton tries not to seem too excited, but she’s been kicking herself all morning. They only cost forty dollars, but they’re sold out everywhere, and despite previously trying on numerous updated versions no others have managed to accommodate her bushy hair and slightly lobsided ears. Her left ear is approximately three millimetres lower than her right. In the grand scheme of things it’s not a big deal, but when trying to wear a pair of sunglasses it’s like attempting to ski fresh Canadian pistes with only one ski—off balance.

“Thank you.” Peyton takes the sunglasses. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Cleo’s eyes light up.

“I want to apologise for last night,”Peyton says.

“You don’tneed...”

“I do,” Peyton interrupts. “I let my emotions get the better of me, so I’m sorry. It’s just a hard subject for me.”

“Singing? Or your mom?”

“Both.” Peyton sighs. “I have felt this weight on my shoulders ever sinceshe passed.”

“From your family?”

“Not just them, from work colleagues, friends, and myself. There’s this expectation that I’m supposed to make my mom proud, and the only way to do that is to sing. It’sjust...”

“A lot of pressure?” Cleo finishes.

“Exactly. I’m scared I’ll disappoint her.”

If she doesn’t try, she doesn’t have to face failure; that’s her logic.

“It’s strange because, I feel like it’s the only thing we have left. It’s the only thing that’s still ours... does thatmake sense?”

Cleo nods. It’s a deep conversation to be having in the hallway on a Saturday morning. “You’re scared when you share that side of yourself with the world, you’ll let go of the thing that keeps you holdingon to her.”

Nobody has ever said it like that before. Cleo is exactly right. “I’m not ready to let go,” Peyton whispers. Singing the songs they wrote was their thing. When she performs a new song on the piano, she can still feel her presence. She picture’s her mom by her side, guiding and listening intently. What if that goes away?

“Have you ever thought maybe you’re not letting go? You’re finding a way to hold on to the most precious parts of your relationship?”

“How do you mean?”

“Eventually, as sad as it seems, you’ll start to forget the minor details of her face, the way she smells, and the sound of her laugh. You maybe already have. You will never forget the way you feel when you play the piano and the euphoric feeling when you sing a song she wrote. That feeling can live on forever if you allow it to,” Cleo finishes. She looks down at her feet. She holds her hands out in front; her biceps are no longer on show, but she twiddles her fingertips. Isshe nervous?

“Huh.” Peyton is lost for words.

“The thing you’re trying to avoid is the thing that will keep you close to her,”Cleo states.

Peyton lets that sink in. Cleo is right; she forgot the way her mom smelt a long time ago. Her mom’s favourite beige cardigan she keeps tucked away in her wardrobe doesn’t smell like her anymore. She used to close her eyes every night and dream about her, but now Peyton can’t remember the last time she did. She watches home movies to remember her voice and her laugh, but it isn’t the same.

“I guess I never thought about itlike that.”

Peyton finally steps to one side. “Do you wantto come in?”

“Sure.” Cleoedges past.

“By the way, thank you for following me homelast night.”

“I didn’t,” Cleo says with a straight face.

“What?”Alarm bells.

“Joking.”Cleo grins.