[ WP ] A mortal mother , close to death , pays a visit to her immortal son .

A cold January day. 
 
 Slowly, she walked down the crowded main street, trying to avoid bumping into anyone. It was a long walk to the jail house. Her toes, not covered by her worn sandals, fingers, and nose, were freezing from the winter wind. Shivers ran through her body. She fixed her scarf so that she would retain as much as possible, and tried to walk with more haste. 
 
 It wasn ’ t much faster than her original speed. 
 
 She felt her life force draining out of her as she walked up the stone steps. The familiar thoughts of death ran through her mind as she opened the formidable door. * “ I ’ m here…to visit…my son. ” * She said, gasping for air. She didn ’ t realize how heavy that door was. Was it that heavy before? * “ Ah, yes, of course. Him. Fill this out, and I ’ ll get him. ” * The monotone voice left the room as she filled out the paper work. 
 
 * “ Son, I ’ m dying. ” * Her voice, tired, was pleading. 
 
 * “ There ’ s nothing I can do, mom, ” * the dead voice replied. 
 
 Silence filled the empty space between her and her son. She looked into the face of her son, which hasn ’ t aged a bit since he was first imprisoned, even though it ’ s been about 40 years. 
 
 * “ Son! ” * she cried. * “ Why did you do something so foolish! So…stupid! ” * 
 
 He sighed. It was always like this. Yet, something in his heart always stung when he saw his mother cry. He didn ’ t want to be in jail either. Who would have thought a small mistake would cost him 384,912 years of his life? 
 
 * “ Mom, you know the story. There ’ s nothing that we can do now… ” * 
 She sobbed, putting her head down the stone table. His eyes began to show a little bit of life, a small glimpse of hope. Through the iron bars, he reached for his mother ’ s hand. It shocked him how cold her hands were. *Is Mom really going to die? * His eyes began to blur, and his voice quivered. 
 
 * “ Mom. I ’ m sorry. I ’ m sorry I haven ’ t been with you for the last 40 years. I ’ m sorry I won ’ t be there at your funeral, or anything like that. But I can promise you one thing, Mom. ” * Her head tilted up, her eyes fixed on him. His voice, gaining strength, was confident and sure. 
 * “ I can promise you my life. I know it is n't much... but... is there anything that I can do for you? Is there anything that you want me to do? ” * His eyes, fully lit, concentrated on his mom ’ s. She slowly raised her head, pondering the question. 
 
 * “ Oh son… ” * Her voice, soft and kind, replied. * “ All I want is for you to be happy. Live a life regret, and put that long life of yours to use. ” * A small smile emerged from both of their faces. *How long has it been since I smiled? * They both wondered. 
 
 * “ Okay, Mom. I promise I ’ ll make it out of here and live life without any regret. Pinky promise. ” * The child-like gesture ended with a kiss on her now warm hand: the symbol of promise, and acknowledgement. 
 
 * “ Love you, Mom. ” * His voice was soft, contemplating the rest of his life. 
 
 * “ Love you too, son. ” * Her voice, losing strength as her hand slipped out his hand, losing the newly gained warmth. 
 
 * “ Mom….Mom?! ” * 
 

