Her mother's eyes would bloom with that beautiful, tear-stained smile, which, after he'd grown up, would sometimes appear in his dreams.
In those dreams, he was so happy, nestling against her legs as he had when he was a child.
He felt that secure sensation once again.
But the happier he was in his dreams, the more pain he felt upon waking.
For the face that appeared most frequently in his dreams was his mother's beautiful smile.
Yet, the image that haunted him most upon waking was that of the day his mother died, the pool of crimson liquid flowing on the ground.
Her futile struggle to rise, but unable to get up no matter how hard she tried.
The way she looked toward him, her eyes brimming with tears and filled with longing.
And that final beautiful smile she gave to the sky as she passed, without leaving a single word.
Wu Mu leaned into the microphone, softly singing:
"Mama, oh, I've just killed a man."
"I held a gun against his head, pulled the trigger, now he's dead."
