. . . can only watch

. . . “Did you forward those lights?” he asks.
“Which lights, Dad?”
He is almost asleep, lying on his side in the bed, so tired suddenly.  Up until two weeks ago he had been the busy one, the one who got up in the morning and made Mom breakfast, helped her get dressed.
Now it seems every day he is more sleepy.
“I ordered a box of lights so we can read,” his voice is weaker than it was yesterday,”so we can see.  You said you’d forward them – “
“I don’t -“
” – because when they sent them they sent them to the other house.”
“Okay . . .  “
“You said you’d forward them.”
“I’ll do what I can.”
“I know you will,” his eyes are closed.  He is almost asleep, “I know.” . . .
[story: “fear in a handful“]

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