ANNA'S VIEW
"Wouldn't you like to know?" He responded in a sarcastic tone. "I would like for you to open up to me about your mother," I pleaded. "There's nothing for you to know about her, Anna. She died a long time ago," he said simply.
"How did she die?" I interrogated him. It was a bold question. I knew I had to tread carefully, but I was too inquisitive for that. It could land me in trouble, but the journalistic instinct in me told me that I may be onto something.
"She died of natural causes when I was five," he answered.
"I am sorry; I had to know the reason," I explained.
"Why? Are you really sorry? Or are you just a nosy journo?" He remarked abruptly.
"I didn't mean to place you on the spot. I wanted you to open up to me, that's all," I said, placing my fork down. "Just because I said that I trust you, it doesn't mean I am going to open up to you in any shape, size, or form. Got it!" he exclaimed.
