War, Peace, Conflict- These are words that are hard to define as the interpretations can vary depending on the perspective one adopts. Each subeditor of MUSE has chosen their perspective to analyze the theme of conflict, war and peace. Woven into one blanket are six different stories exploring themes such as the conflict between dreams and reality, the war against survival, fight against delusions, battling one’s past, war against societal judgement and more….
“Of Sitas and Galateas”
Amreeta Lethe Chowdhury
“My, my. A lily as fair and pristine as you has no business wandering the streets at this ungodly hour, that too alone. I wonder what you could have been looking for.”
Shyama stood unspeaking with her back to the wall, warily eyeing the uniformed man standing before her. She had seen her fair share of officers of the law, and knew how easily their facades sloughed off the moment no one was watching. After all, no one would bother to question their actions so long as they did not incense the wrong class of people. As far as she was concerned, Shyama and her kind were fair game for men of the law.
And yet, this one was different somehow. For one, he was not all over her already, and instead seemed content simply looking at her. She did not want to be alone with him in this room; no good could come of it. The men who had picked her up in the dark, moonless night stood on the other side of the door, possibly on guard lest she try to make a run for it. Shyama searched for an escape.
“You need not worry,” he broke the silence once more, “I’m hardly comparable to the scum that roams the streets outside. I will not touch you.”
“What do you want, then?” Shyama’s quivering voice rang throughout the room for the first thought that night, and the resulting grin plastered on his face made her wish she had kept quiet instead.
“Why, to save you, of course. I have saved many of your savage lot — taken you off the streets, civilised you, and moulded you into creatures worthy of inhabiting our cultured society. As for you, my dear, I will sculpt you into my finest work yet. You will be my masterpiece.” His ravenous gaze sent chills down Shyama’s spine. She could not help but think back to a few hours ago, when she was caught soliciting in the dead of the night and hauled off to this police station.
It was not the first time it had happened — no one working in the world’s oldest profession for as long as she had could avoid such bouts with the law — but they had let her go without much commotion. Well, that was not quite right; there was little commotion because she never put up a fight when they demanded her “services”. She often tried to think of them as her regular clients, although that was hardly a more pleasurable thought. The men that visited her at night were revolting, with lips reddened and teeth clogged with betel and chewing tobacco. Yet, in some godforsaken way, they were still better than law enforcement, whose entitlement to her body knew no bounds. At the very least, clients that abused her or were violent would be ostracised and avoided by the unspoken alliance she shared with other workers like her. No such protection existed when it came to the police. Vultures. Pigs.
Tonight, she could tell something was different. The station was abuzz with muffled excitement. From the pieces of conversation she heard as she was dragged from one room to another, she managed to gather that some high-ranking officer was making a surprise visit, and she hoped this meant that they would be too occupied to violate her tonight and just let her go. If only she had gotten that luck for once in her life. This mysterious officer happened to ask for her specifically, and now, here she stood in front of him, her wrists cuffed behind her.
He only seemed to notice after his self righteous spiel that her hands were still bound, and ordered, seemingly to the air, that Shyama be released. A policewoman who was standing guard outside stumbled into the room and wrenched away the handcuffs. The man looked on, unblinking, as I massaged the welts on my wrists.
“So, what do you have to say to my offer? I doubt you can afford to refuse.” He grinned knowingly.
“I do not understand it,” Shyama answered honestly.
“My apologies, I forget how ignorant your type can be. The bare-bones version of it is that I would like to rescue you from your pathetic, miserable existence on the streets, give you a place to stay, and provide for you whatever it is you could wish for.”
“I don’t understand.” She eyed him sceptically.
“Hm, are you asking what I could possibly gain from unconditionally helping wretches like you?” When Shyama does not reply, he continues, “Well, it isn’t unconditional, of course. Most of them were more than happy, and grateful might I add, to come work for me after I’d picked them up from the streets. But you, my dear…” he barks out a laugh. “No. I am a pious man, sent to earth to love God and all the beauty He has created. All I ask of you is that you repent the sins of the flesh that you have committed against Him, admit you were wrong to indulge in such defilement of yourself, and forswear your life as a whore. You must not worry, I will provide fo—
“I am not ashamed,” Shyama cuts him off.
For the first time all night, he looks taken aback, but the shock swiftly changes to anger. “What did you say?”
“I’m not ashamed of the work I have to do.”
“Do you mean to tell me that you do not feel an ounce of shame for selling your body to street dogs? For money?”
“Why should I be the one to feel ashamed? I work like any of you do, for the same thing all of you do. I sell my body as much as any rickshawala sells theirs, wasting away under scorching sun and ceaseless rain, or one of those corporates that slave away their days making money they’ll never catch so much a glimpse of. Or even you swines, who sell your bodies and your dignities to be some apathetic state’s meat shields, all so you can feel morally superior to and torment those below you.”
As Shyama sat in the cold cell, shut in behind the iron grate, she wondered if she would live out the rest of her life trading freedoms.
“Soliloquy in the Black Hole”
Shahriyer Hossain Shetu
It’s all dark in here. It’s all silent. I can’t smell anything, I can’t feel anything, but I know that my ship is in motion. No, I think my spaceship is falling – down in a bottomless well, slowly and slowly like a feather. I haven’t moved a single muscle for quite some time. Neither am I thirsty, nor am I hungry! Hell, I don’t even feel like going to the toilet. I only know that I am breathing.
It’s all dark in here. It’s all silent. I blink my eyes, and then I open my eyes – it is still dark everywhere. Sometimes I blink to count the time. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7…………………………………………121, 122. 123, 124…………………………..1001, 1002, 1003, 1004, 1005! Why am I not feeling any pain? Back on Earth, after 50 blinks, my eyes would go ‘WEEEE’ – it seems I can go on and on.
“Life goes on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and
On, and on, and on
On, and on, and on, and on, and on, and
On and on and on
On, and on, and on, and on, and on, and
On, and on, and on
On, and on, and on, and on, and on, and
On, and on, and on!”
It seems these are the only lines I remember from Oliver Trees”s – ‘Life Goes On’ song. It was Oliver Tree, right? Or was it Jason Derulo? I can’t remember. I guess it is due to the time. Although, it was a great song. I still remember this game where I, along with my best friend, Sam, would keep singing “On and On and On” until one of us would give up – it was more like a breathing game. And Sam always used to win! The guy knew breathing techniques, I tell you! But, I think now I have enough training! I can easily beat Sam now. A part of me wishes he was here. Sam, it is so lonely here, buddy. And, it is so silent. Yet, I am somehow, at this point, okay with the loneliness and silence. But, I am still not okay with the darkness. When I return home, Sam, we will play the game again! And, this time, I will win!
Nobody knew I was scared of the dark – YES! I have Nyctophobia. But my mother always knew about my fear, and every time there was a blackout in my area, she used to come and hold my hands and tell me: “Don’t worry, I will protect you.”
Well, she isn’t here to protect me now. I guess that was a lie. I wonder how she is doing. Is she old? Does she miss me at all? I think she does – I think everyone does. I was pretty loveable back there. Maybe because of my humor… I used to make everyone laugh! I still remember I cracked a joke about a rose in Rosie ma’am’s class – I can’t remember what the joke was about, but it was hilarious. I guess that was inappropriate. I should never have cracked such a joke with a teacher. I think I will apologize when I get back to Earth.
“So no one told you life was gonna be this way
Your job’s a joke, you’re broke
Your love life’s DOA
It’s like you’re always stuck in second gear
When it hasn’t been your day, your week, your month
Or even your year”
“I’ll be there…. for you…” It’s so dark in here. It’s so lonely. And, I am really really tired. Mom, Sam, can you please find me? I am scared of the dark. I haven’t moved a muscle since the time I am inside this darkness. I do not even know how I ended up here. I remember the last time light I saw was the space stars – a galaxy far far away from my home. I got hit by something, something really strong. And, then, all of a sudden everything went dark.
Wait, am I dead? Is this really hell? How can this be hell? I was told hell would be more painful – fierce, I’d be cut into pieces, tortured, and whatnot. How can this mere darkness be hell? Or, wait…am I inside my graveyard? Even if I am, how am I moving? Should I shout? Should I scream? I tried that before – I can’t hear my own voice.
I see something! I can feel something! What is it – there is something white! I see something white in front of me. But, it’s really really far! Somehow, I am getting closer to it. The light is getting bigger and bigger! And, and… I am getting closer and closer! I never felt such happiness for a long time! I never thought a small white light could make me so happy!! I think I am going home! That is my home! YES! YES!! I am getting closer. I am insideeeeeeeeeeeeeee……I….I am in…………………………..
“Conflict in Survival”
Kashphia Mimoza
It happened all so suddenly. She didn’t know how long she had been lying down, nor whether it was day or night. Remembering the vague details, she tried to crawl upwards, amidst the rubble and wreckage. Her legs hurt tremendously and soon, she realized that the feeling in her right arm was gone. Like a newborn foal, her legs trembled as she dragged herself out of the table-like object that had shielded her from further harm. She could identify specs of light coming from an upward direction. Though she was maimed and injured, her will to live led her to drag herself in the light’s direction.
The woman remembered the struggles she had to get to her position. Apathetic and unfeeling, her husband laid lazily, wasting whatever income he procured for himself on alcohol. Her throbbing knees reminded her of the sunken feeling in her heart when she realized his true nature. Every sharp word cut her, much like how the broken glass had currently left her bleeding. Her mother-in-law was against her when she decided she would work to earn a living herself. How scandalous would it be to send a young girl to work alone in the city! But for the sake of her child, a mother would do anything. Remembering the face of her young one kept her going, no matter how much her legs ached, no matter how much her knees bled.
As she walked, she came across a sight that shook her to her very core. She immediately recognized the person, or rather, the remains of who that used to be. A younger co-worker, in a similar position as her. Unlike her, the young woman had lost her much older husband, and with no one to provide for her she decided to work for herself. She was a lot more timid than her, and had to be given much more guidance. She looked after her and soon they were inseparable, bonding over the difficulty of their lives. How many times had she protected her from the wrath of their superior? She remembered her smiling face as they made fun of that wretchedly stern man. And yet, who would have guessed that her life would end so suddenly, so unceremoniously? Tears welled in her eyes. As her struggle to reach the light continued, she whispered a silent farewell.
She coughed as the air became more difficult to breathe. By this time, her eyes had become adjusted to the dark. She could see the remains of her work station. The clothes they produced, the machines they used. The familiar furniture crushed under layers of rubble. The memories she made in that factory grew hazy. When did the collapse occur? And why? Was it an earthquake? As she pondered these questions, she coughed once more and to her surprise, her mouth leaked blood.
It seemed the world was against her as one misfortune led to another. A large tremor, strong enough to make her lose her footing, echoed throughout the compound. She fell, and as she did, her world grew dark. A falling rock injured her already scratched head and she felt her life leak through her wounds. The faces of her co-workers, her family, all the people she had ever remembered, flashed one after another. The intense pain she felt had reached a peak until, finally, there was nothing but light. Bright light, enough to blind a man, enough to chase the night away. As her breathing steadied, she listened to the vague voices surrounding her. A cool breeze swept over her and she drifted off to a faraway place.
“We found her!!”
———————————————-
“Miles to go…” “
Sumaiya Swati Udita
Frost has been Partho’s favourite poet, always. His lines have always been his favourite. He is not the typical youngster, at least you would want him to be. Yes, you will not expect, you will want. Do you know him? Nobody does. Still, they never fail to demand everything from him.
Yes, everything. Partho is fourteen. During the day, he remains lost in his thoughts of perfecting his basketball tactics, while Susoma Miss keeps lecturing on “Assets”, and Shahid Sir talks about “Duties Towards Parents”. You can find Partho, when Shalil Sir is done discussing “Moment” and “Momentum”. Ask him anything- Speed and Velocity, Centre of Gravity. Just ask him anything about Physics. Oh, also Literature. From Shakespeare to Mansfield, name whoever you can. Frost has a special place in his heart.
But who will tell all of these to Mr. and Mrs. Haque? Mr. Haque is busy dreaming about his son succeeding into his position one day, while Mrs. Haque constantly worries about her son’s future. Who remembered that Partho is only fourteen?
It drives Partho crazy. A long time ago, Partho would lock his door and think about his parents’ concerns. “Dad is always into the perks of being a businessman”, Partho would say by himself. “Mom is always nagging about the good payment, lieutenants receive every month, or after returning from their peace missions. All they are teaching me is how to make money. But nobody teaches me how to pursue my dreams. Are not scientists delivering theories for the betterment of the world? They get good recognition. Mom and dad do not like me playing basketball. Why, players also get good salaries, for my parents’ king information? And me being a poet and composing poems on nature- I will be toast! They never think about my satisfaction and peace, and here I am, all confused by their dreams. Where is my place in this world?”
That was about ten years ago.
A scientist on one side, a romantic on the other, Partho dreamt of establishing himself as a “romantic scientist”, being 6’2. The height would confuse everyone, but yes, he was only fourteen. Partho did try his luck. Thank goodness he completed his O Level and A Level with the World Highest marks. He tried in the D Unit of Dhaka University, as well as almost half of the cadet colleges of Bangladesh. Fortunately, he qualified everywhere and studied in BBA from Cumilla Cadet College. Most importantly, he fulfilled his parents’ dreams.
By the time he turned twenty-four, Partho was provided almost every opportunity a cadet would dream of. He also began getting internship offers from many renowned multinational companies. Seeing their son excel, Mr. and Mrs. Haque sat in a discussion and unanimously agreed, “Partho can join a multinational company at any point in his life. Let him begin as an army person first.” so, without any obstacle, Partho was allowed to join in several peace missions, along with his peers and mentors. In a very short time, Partho’s lifestyle changed, and he had the life of a typical lieutenant. He did study science a lot, but he never got to study a single letter of literature. Perhaps Partho forgot who Frost was.
Partho has returned from his mission from Uganda. Mr. and Mrs. Haque is so happy now, and so is Partho. However, Partho never smiles as brightly as his parents do, and Mrs. Haque always complains about it to Mr. Haque. It worries Mr. Haque as well. Then, both of them remember that Partho has to work and struggle a lot. After all, he joins the battles. Partho often remains lost in the thoughts of perfecting his angles for shooting nowadays. However, when he is done thinking about this subject, he broods for an even longer time. What does he think about so much? What worries him so much? He has nerves of steel, he must not feel so emotional. But he does feel like this nowadays.
While on leave, Partho felt like taking a walk beside Dhanmondi lake, through the big, green trees. Suddenly, Partho sees a child resting against her father’s belly. Partho halts, just like he does during his training. He begins to have an unknown feeling.
After half an hour, Partho recognized the feeling. He had such feelings ten years ago. He began to think by himself, “One day, that child will be married away, having nobody to understand her. Have I not strived? Did I not try hard enough to satisfy my parents’ demands? Dad wanted me to be a businessman, while mom wanted me to be a lieutenant. And I have met their requirements. But what did I want?” Partho wondered.
“I forgot.” Partho said with a sigh. “Who cares about these beautiful trees and plants? Who cared about my love towards basketball? Who knew that I loved literature? I cannot believe I think about shooting all day long, instead.” Partho decided, “I must go… to where, who knows? To another mission, maybe. I must go… without stopping.” Amazed by the sudden serenity of the atmosphere, Partho recited to himself,
“The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.”
“Redlock Bluebell”
Quazi Farhina Hassan
Twilight. My mother’s favourite time of the day. She would pick me up and hide me in her arms and sing my favourite lullaby, staring dead at the sky. She would pause. Talk about my father. About our family. About her sorrow. Our sorrow. About our dog. About Bluebell.
I was only 6. Naive and innocent. For me, at that time, my mother was my whole world. She would hide me from people, saying they are going to take me to Bluebell. Bluebell is bad. Bluebell is…dangerous.
But who is Bluebell?
I was 14. The whole town would gawk at me as if they saw some ghost, as if they knew something about me which I didn’t. I would ask Mother about why she was keeping me hidden, about her being mysterious and embarrassed, about Bluebell. She would walk away. She would cry. But never reveal the secret.
I was 20. Fell in love with a girl. She had beautiful eyes. Like the ocean. Like the sky. Her smile was magic. She could kill anyone with her beauty spell, and I was her first victim. One day, she told me about Bluebell. She heard Bluebell is a monster who comes out at night in white and abducts people. I laughed. I hugged her, but there was this strange tension in her eyes. She knew. She knew the story.
I was 25. Walking silently in an isolated road with melancholy because the love of my life left me for some other man. I was going home. I was going to see Mother. Mother opened the door and bursted into tears when she saw me. I asked her about Bluebell again. She was quiet. Quiet as a labyrinth.
That night, I couldn’t sleep. I walked and walked around the room, staring at the blank walls and curtains. And then I discovered a door. I remember when I was a kid, Mother told me not to open the door because this is where Bluebell lived once upon a time.
I walked in. Just a small room with dirty things. I looked around and found a chest. Wooden chest. I opened it. There were toys…wooden swords, superhero masks, toy trains and cars, dolls, legos…and two beautiful capes. Red and Blue.
Nothing here. Just my toys. Why would Mother tell me not to come here? Where was Bluebell now?
Then I found a photo album. And there were the answers to all of my questions.
Mother finally opened up.
She met my father when they were very young. A naive love story. That’s what my mother thought. They got married early. Had two babies. Me and Amanda. A beautiful family.
Mother thought she knew her husband. But she was wrong. My father ran away with my sister somewhere. Somewhere far far away from our home. And we never saw them again.
I was 30. I knew about Bluebell.
I stood in front of the cell where my father showed up. He’s been here for years now. A murderer, exactly what they call him. Where was his daughter? Was she a murderer too?
“Bluebell”, my father laughed. He was ugly.
My mother died everyday to make me a man, whereas this man sat on his couch, relaxed and created a monster. Mother created an angel, and this man threw his daughter in the flames of Inferno, so that she could embrace the devils. My mother showed me my flaws, and this man poured a jar of flaws on her.
He created a monster.
I am 35. Took me 10 years to find Amanda. She was here. In a mental institution.
She was pale. She looked more pale in that white t-shirt.
“Amanda”, I whispered. I showed her the capes which we used to wear as kids, ” Remember this? I am the Redlock and you are the Bluebell”.
Amanda finally looked up and stared. Her lips parted as if she was trying to say something
“Hello, John”.
“I am Sarah”
Afrida Lubaba Khan
I was suffering! I couldn’t stop crying… My friends, who were very dear to me, wronged my reputation in many ways. I was hurt! Yet, I stood by their side as if nothing ever happened. I kept fighting a war in my head – should I tell them to stop pretending in front of me or should I just let it go? I was so confused! Everything felt wrong. I was in pain – pain as if a sharp knife was inside my throat!
I kept waiting for them to come and talk to me. Every day I hoped they’d fix things! But things seemed beyond repair. After all, they were all putting my reputation down. How can anyone talk about anyone’s character!? I loved them so much – how could they?!.
Day after day, week after week, my scar was getting deeper. I had no one to share my pain with until I met Sarah. Sarah… my savior. We became friends instantly! She comforted me in many ways. I had no idea who Sarah was before but now it seemed we were two separate twins just waiting to be reunited.
We shared everything about ourselves. She understood my pain and so did I. But I still could not share what they did to me. I wish I was brave. Brave like Sarah. Sarah had this weird power where she’d understand my feelings – as if she could read my mind. She kept asking, “What’s wrong?” I kept silent for a long time until one day I couldn’t take the pain anymore. I was at my house, cooking! All of a sudden, I heard a glass-breaking sound coming from my room. I immediately ran and saw a big rock lying on my floor. I went closer to the rock and another rock came from my window – flying and touching my face. I was bleeding! I ran to my main door to see who it was. But, I was too late. I turned around and saw the outside of my front door. Someone painted the front door of my house with the most disgusting words. That was my breaking point. I couldn’t take it anymore! I ran to Sarah’s as quick as I could – barefoot.
Sarah opened the door of her house and hugged me and asked me, “Tell me…please, dear friend, what happened?!” I looked at her and told her about my old friends. I told her how I had only made one little mistake. “I did not know she liked him!” I exclaimed with tears in my eyes. “One small embrace.Someone saw it. And they all turned against me”. I told her about the nasty remarks, the public humiliation and the dirty looks that followed. Sarah was outraged! She looked me in the eyes and said, “you should not let it go and no one should make you suffer like this. It is a war; them against you.”
I wasn’t sure why she said what she said, but something occurred in me, and a little part of me accepted her words. I was sad but after listening to her, my sadness turned into rage and then into a thirst for revenge.
One day, out of the blue, one of my former friends came to talk to me. She was the only one who never hurt me in any way, but she never supported me either. I was suddenly filled with mixed emotions. My head and mind were in a conflict – I had no idea how I should treat her. Sarah specifically instructed me to not be nice to them at all. I watched her face and did not utter a single word. I left the place immediately.
I met Sarah the next day. We were seated on the park bench like we always do. Somehow, Sarah understands every time I am down. Sarah looked me in the eyes and told me to stay strong. Then, with an angry face, she added: “think of what they did to you.” She kept whispering into my ears like a voice. A voice that was buried inside me – like a force that is changing me, slowly and silently. I became more convinced and my emotions were shifting to a different side. Sarah started referring to my friends as snakes. “Invite one of the snakes to your house for a movie! Start with Nina. She might agree to it.” I looked at her and asked, “Why invite them?” She, with a confident face, replied “I will hide in your room and wait for you in the closet.”
I was already blinded by hatred then. I had no idea what I was doing and a part of me was accepting all these. I agreed to every bit of what Sarah told me.
I called my friend, Nina, and tried to invite her to my house. At least, she seemed apprehensive. I reminded her of all the good ol’ time we shared just like how Sarah instructed. Nina agreed. Sarah even chose the kind of movie that we should watch. She recommended, “watch Anaconda as it resembles Nina, HAHA!” And, I agreed to that as well.
Nina came to my home after an hour. Before the movie started, Nina looked into my eyes and stated, “I have missed you”. However, I was not buying her words at all. I was already convinced to kill the snake.
I turned off the lights for the movie and beckoned Sarah to come and tie her up. Nina, with a shocking face, screamed and said: “what the..? What’s going on!?” She hurriedly said, “Who are you!? What’s going on!?”
I confronted Nina! I looked into her eyes and said: “Come on, spread rumors about me now, Nina!” Sarah gave a wicked laugh at me. Sarah tied Nina in such a way as if she has been doing this for quite some time.
Sarah and I went downstairs. Suddenly a loud noise was heard; “Nina, it must be NINA! She is trying to escape! We ran upstairs and caught Nina with all our forces! Nina is a big fat pig that even I and Sarah, together, can’t hold! She kept pushing us away with all her might! Until I caught her and hit her with a bottle made of glass. I felt no regret in doing that whatsoever, and I felt, somewhat, relieved! Sarah looked at me and said “Feels good, doesn’t it?” I looked at her with beaming eyes. I actually felt good!
As I cleaned her wounds, she kept on feeding me with her lies. “I AM SORRY, I beg you, please…..” Nina kept begging! I stuffed a cloth in her mouth; her every uttered word was making me angrier.
We kept Nina for days! A couple of days went by, and Sarah told me, “do not leave her alone,” I did what Sarah told me to do. But, little did I know that I was already in the world of crime!
I stayed home the following days, eating the little amount of food I had till I had to leave for groceries. Suddenly in the store, some police officers suspected me. They asked me about Nina. I panicked. Why wasn’t Sarah with me! Without her, I am powerless. I panicked so much that I ran – I ran like a crazy dog. Sarah warned me to stay at home, but I didn’t listen to her. The policeman kept chasing me. Luckily, I lost him that day.
When they finally found Nina, she had dried blood hugging the lifeless bits on her body. One of the police men came and held my arms forcefully. I was not scared because I knew Sarah would save me. I looked at Sarah and screamed, “Help me!”
But Sarah wasn’t replying. She kept looking down. I kept on asking the same thing again and again. But, Sarah wasn’t replying to a single word! I blinked my eyes, and Sarah wasn’t there. I kept talking to the invisible front as if my mind had gone totally crazy.
I called Sarah once again. She was there in front of me. But, this time she was a bit far. All of a sudden, everything went dark. I kept screaming, “SARAH! SARAH!!!” But, she wasn’t listening! I still kept calling her, SARAH! SARAH!! SAAHRAAAHH!!! But, she wasn’t replying at all.
Suddenly, the lights were on. I saw my mother in front of me, and the time was around 3 am in the morning. My mother looked at me and asked, “honey, did you have another nightmare?” I kept looking at her. For a moment, my brain froze, as if I wasn’t even sure what was real and was not. She asked me again, “Is everything alright?” I was silent. She asked me once again, “Is everything alright, dear?” At that exact moment, I wept. I started crying like a baby and hugged my mother with all my force. She comforted me like every other night and asked me to go to sleep. I laid down and felt a little relieved looking at my mother.
She got up and went close to the light switch, and before turning it off, she asked me, “Should I turn off the lights, Sarah?”