Back inside the room, Angel's face was still sad as he rested his head on his mother's chest, but she soon moved him away.
"Lay down on the bed. My chest hurts. Your head is becoming bigger than I remember it feels heavy." She clicked her tongue, rubbing her chest and giving him a hard look that made Angel move back, clutching his one-eyed stuffed rat toy, the one he had given her before he went to call Rav. It was his favorite toy because she had knitted it, stuffed it with wools, and sewn on buttons for the eyes, though one had gone missing, Angel still carried it around everywhere. Since he loved it so much, his mother had never taken it away from him.
"Sorry, Mama," Angel muttered, and she smiled at him and touched his hair. "It's fine, but from now on, don't lie on my chest. Learn to sleep on the pillow, that's what they're made for, son."
