A little boy alone in the dark room approached the dark figure in the bed. Her soft hair fanned across the pillow and her head tilted to the side, her feet dangled over the edge of the bed. He without hesitation whipped open the curtains and instant harsh light flooded the room. She stirred, groaning. Many a time he had to be the one to awaken his mother from her bed and not care if he had to go to school hungry for he was too short to reach anything above the kitchen cupboards for anything other than a apple nor did he have the time. He loved his mother dearly, she was just having a difficult time with his father being away fighting in the war across the sea. It was currently just him and his mother, fighting and surviving in their own little war of life.

“Morning darling” she grumbled

“Morning Mummy” He chimed with affection

“Are you late for school?” She asked

“No, it's early still, I've got another hour”

“Thats good” she said, her eyes squinting as she peeped up at him, smiling tiredly. Pillow marks creased her face and sleep was crusted yellow in the corner of her eyes but the little boy loved his mummy dearly.

“Mummy, when's Daddy coming back?” He asked

The smile faded and he thought she saw her pale in colour but he couldn’t be sure

“when the war is over, you already know that”

“But when will the war be over?”

Out from the twisted bed sheets, her thin but long, bony hand rose out, almost like from a penny dreadful art cover but skinny fingers tenderly took his own, the inside flesh of her palm was dry and cracked but he clasped it still, holding onto it for dear life.

“Hopefully soon, sweetie pea” she said wistfully “Hopefully soon”