It was definitely my mother standing there, looking quite familiar with the glass of red wine in one hand and the cigarette holder in the other. Howev...r, it was immediately obvious that no matter how much I looked like my mother, I was not her. I didn't stand in quite the same manner, nor did I radiate the same aura of arrogance and control. "Still," I mused, "It is a remarkable resemblance..." Someone who didn't know my mother quite well would never have been able to tell that I wasn't really. And I’m afraid. Afraid that this wicked world into which you’ve pulled me will soon crumble to dust, leaving me with nothing. We have to stop this! Please!” Somehow I had managed to say the words that had been at the top of my tongue. “I understand,” she replied, sitting down on the coffee table and playing with a loose curl, looking thoughtful and allowing me to feel a little relief. “It has all happened quite fast and you think that I won’t stop before something happens that can’t be kept. More

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