Heavy breathing could be heard in the stuffy old room, a body hidden under covers while a figure stands above it as if shielding it. Running a hand through her greasy, unwashed hair, Mom stared blankly at Fils, who probably felt like she was half dead by now. There was no pity in her mind, but watching her friend struggle with breathing and asking her millions of times to get her a glass of water really made her worry just a bit. It was cold outside today, and the day before they both thought it was a good idea to spend the time in their terrible light clothing trying to bond over snow.

Soft words were exchanged between the two, and a slip of the tongue ruined it all. Fils hated that, she quickly snapped back angrily, but it wasn't all that uncommon that she would do that. It just made Mom feel even more uncomfortable, nothing personal.

Pulling on a coat, Mom quickly rushed out of the room, her head in her hands. She was embarrassed with her mistake. How come that slipped out? Why at that singular moment did her head allowed such a thing to happen? 'I must be getting sick as well.' she consoled herself, 'I am sure she will forget.'

And it went on like that. Fils never questioned her the following day, nor the one preceding that. Everything went normally, like it never happened. It was a nice change of heart.