I clasp the brooch in my hands. One shot at this.

Mother sees the worry in my eyes. The anxiety. The troubled veil covering them.

"You'll do fine." she reassures me as I fidget in her grip.

She crouches down, goes to my level. Letting her piercing yet smooth gaze pass over my bun, my creased forehead, finally my eyes.

"You'll do fine," she repeats. "I promise."