Rose: Are you sure you shouldn't call your daughter?
Anna: Mother's Day isn't until tomorrow, she knows I'm coming, I always do.
Rose: Still, she must be worried about you.
Anna: Rose, my daughter's dead. I go out to the cemetery every Mother's Day to be with her. It was always such an important day for us. I like to pretend it still is. Only I don't know if I'm going to be able to make it this year.
Rose: Aren't you feeling well?
Anna: I ran away from the home, and I'm afraid they're just about to catch up with me.