His father had abandoned them.After many long hours, his mother had fallen asleep.
He felt like somebody had put bricks on his chest. He could hear the clock ticking, the fans moving, his own breath,
And the most of all, his mother snoring.
He realised it had been some time since his mother had really slept.
The snoring was not annoying but tranquilising. He thought they were unshackled now. But she looked different and old. He didn’t fear the death of his father for he only gave her scars, visible or not.
What really worried him was the disturbing question that hung over him like a sword:
If his mother would begin to live again, now that she was free.
Instgram led you here. 
I like the question posed. Being alive does not mean living.
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Thank you.
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