Mia: Please let go of my hands.
Clara: I am sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you.
Mia: I am just trying to sell my flowers.
Clara: I will buy all of them. Just tell me about the silver locket.
Mia: I don't know, ma'am. It was with me when I was found as a baby.
Clara: Found? Where were you found?
Mia: At a bus station. A nice lady took me in, but she passed away last year.
Clara: A bus station in this city?
Mia: Yes. Eighteen years ago.
Clara gasped loudly. She covered her mouth with her hand, tears streaming down her expensive makeup.
Arthur: Madam, we are causing a scene on the sidewalk.
Clara: I don't care about the scene, Arthur!
Arthur: The board members are watching from the lobby windows.
Clara: Let them watch. This is more important than any estate planning meeting.
Clara hurriedly opened her designer purse. Her hands shook as she dug past her credit cards and keys.
Clara: I need to show you something.
Mia: Ma'am, you are crying.
Clara: It is the only thing I have left of her.
Clara pulled out a faded, creased photograph. She handed it carefully to the young girl.
Mia: Who is this?
Clara: Look closely at the baby's chest.
Mia squinted at the old photo. The baby in the picture was wearing the exact same silver heart-shaped locket.
Mia: That is... that is my necklace.
Clara: It was custom-made by a jeweler in Paris. There is only one in the world.
Mia: But how do you have a picture of me?
Clara: Because I was the one who put that necklace on you.
Mia stumbled back in disbelief. The basket of flowers almost slipped from her grip.
Arthur stepped closer, his professional demeanor breaking as he looked between the girl and his boss.
Arthur: Madam, open the pendant.
Clara: Yes. Do it, sweetie. Open it.
Mia: It doesn't open. I have tried for years.
Clara: You have to press the small latch on the side. The one hidden under the silver leaf.
Mia reached up to her neck. Her fingers found a tiny groove she had never noticed before.
With a soft click, the silver heart popped open.
Inside the locket was a tiny, perfectly preserved photograph of the same baby.
Mia: Why do I feel like I've known you my whole life?
Clara: Because I am your mother, Mia.