At the foot of the stairs sits your mother's kitchen table. Two cups wait on it. In the spoon beside one cup, a reflection moves although nobody is there. The recorder has begun playing through its empty cassette compartment. Nora's monitor answers from above. Between them, your mother's voice sounds almost complete. It asks you to sit down. The chair nearest you slides back a few inches. You place the recorder on the table and lift its battery cover. Under it, red and black wires lead to the speaker. The little sewing scissors are still in the biscuit tin Nora is carrying. She offers them without speaking. Cutting the wires will destroy the recorder. Every tape you brought home can survive it, but you won't hear your mother's voice again tonight. The empty chair moves closer. Behind a closed inner door, someone begins to cry.
Someone is breathing beside you. You live alone. Your estranged sister knows why it sounds like your mother.
Listen closely. Choose carefully. Carry the consequences.
Every path leaves a different story.