She lay under the thin sheet, each breath rasping like chopsticks rubbing on a cheese grater. The battle with the Big C was, mercifully, almost over. Lung cancer was such a horrible way to go, but it seemed particularly unfair for her. Ricky held her hand gently. He thought he might grind the frail bones to dust if he squeezed too hard. God, she had wasted away to nothing.

“I left another message. He didn’t answer,â€? Travis murmured as he returned to the room where their mother had spent the previous twenty days. Ricky shook his head – half disgusted, half defeated. They hadn’t expected him to answer. Why would he drag himself away from his new life to come spend time in this hell hole?

They counted the minutes. Her breaths came slower; sometimes they had to squint to make sure that the sheet still rose and fell over her chest. Until it didn’t.

Ricky turned away, blinking back tears. Travis stared down at the thing that used to be his mother but no longer was. He hated Harlan. And he envied him.