WILMA.

The wind rustled, leaves seemed to crinkle and tinkle in response to his question. His burnt-corked appearance fiery to the nonchalance of Clarisse. "Your mom." His voice rumbled like the great Messiah. Her dark eyes shone brightly, shimmering with all the pain her body could muster. "Your...mom." She affirmed with a trembling voice. "Your mom."

Fahrenheit 451 and all it's characters belong to Ray Bradbury I am not stealing his work do not delete my book Wattpad piece of shit