A young girl with brown hair cries in bed, hugging a large spoon, in a cartoon-style bedroom with sunlight streaming in.

I am writing a picture book this is my 4th page I race into my room and collapse onto the bed. I hug the spoon tightly. Memories of Mum rush in Her voice, warm like honey on a summer day. Her eyes, so brilliantly blue, it felt like looking straight into the ocean. Then the door handle rattles. Panicked, I shove the spoon under my pillow just as Dad walks in. “Hey, Daphne… I just wanted to have a little chat,” he says, making himself comfortable at the edge of my bed. “I know it’s been hard for you… but you need to eat at some point. It’s been hard for me too. But you know what your mum would have told you Be a brave butterfly.” “Don’t call me butterfly!” I snap. “Only Mum can.” “I was just trying to—” “Just go,” I say, the anger sharp in my voice. He stands up and leaves. I don’t even look at him. All I want is Mum. And I know she’s never coming back. without writing at the top? See more