ONLY YOU, NO CONTRACT
Tiffany moved quietly through the sun-dappled room, her hands gentle but practised. Her mother sat in the wheelchair by the window, her eyes distant, flickering occasionally with recognition. Tiffany crouched beside her, gathering the folds of her mother’s cardigan and smoothing them down with care. She adjusted the collar, straightened the buttons, and gently pulled the sleeves over her thin, frail wrists.
Her mother's legs peeked from beneath her skirt. Without a word, Tiffany reached for the soft wool blanket draped over the nearby chair. She unfolded it slowly, then tenderly laid it across her mother's lap, tucking the edges in around her legs to keep her warm.
Bab Populer