"You would have made a good mentor," she whispered softly, turning back to her sketch of Timmy, a tear sliding down her face at the abandonment she felt. She knew it wasn't his fault, just another in a long string of no's. One would think it would be easier to hear, but rejection never was.
She wiped at her eye, before studying her son's new body, slowly adding in details, trying to bury herself in her work, to escape.