I’m sorry my stand-in mother was an evil replica, machine-like
    yet unpredictable. We tried to calculate an algorithm for her
    mood, as you would’ve done, and in 14 years never cracked it.
    She remained seated when I left for the last time.

You weren’t to know
    and they wouldn’t have believed you anyway.
    We learn to accept the clouds for what they are
and wait, patiently.

Ruby Robinson, “Apology”