Mira Clark's POV
"What the hell?!" I let out a cry of horror, my brown eyes red with trails of smeared mascara stuck in my eyes.
"I'm the death of me!" my head droops in pain. In front of the mirror of my blue-painted room. I'm in my mother's home; one she left me after she died, fifteen years ago. I sweep a strand of my straight auburn hair. A memory of my time at the hospital flashes into my mind, the words of Lize Cruz to dad
"You have two daughters, hers and mine's, by the name Myra”
Unwilling to be plunged into that memory, I shake the thoughts away. I haven't checked the time, but I know I'm late already. On my Tv stand, seats my virtual assistant.
"Picksea! What time is it?"
"It's 6.15 am, Mira,"
"6.15 am!" I tuck my hair behind my ears and dash for the bathroom. "Picksea, play It's a Sunny Day."
