I turned off the lamp, slowly opened our bedroom door, and crept down the hallway. Daniel’s shadow disappeared into his mother’s room, and the door closed softly behind him.
My heart pounded. I pressed my ear against the door, straining to hear.
Margaret’s frail voice broke the silence.
“Daniel… could you get the ointment? My back is itching again.”
Daniel’s voice was calm and gentle.
“Sure, Mom. Just stay still, I’ll help you.”
I hesitated for a moment, then carefully pushed the door open a crack.
Inside, Daniel was wearing gloves and gently applying a medicated cream on his mother’s back. Under the dim lamplight, I saw patches of red, inflamed skin. Margaret winced but smiled weakly.
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