Madam had been pacing the living room since forever now. Naturally, whenever she returns to her apartment, she would take a seat in her secluded chair. But not today. Not now. She couldn't help herself retain a particular standing position let alone take a seat.

It was obvious that something was eating deep into her soul. As though something ugly and horrible was haunting her thoughts. Her sons couldn't do a thing. They remained standing too, occasionally throwing their hands forward with no words. Perhaps in an attempt to make her stop the pacing.

Some of the three sons had a slight idea what the problem was. They knew too well why Madam was restless and was pacing. Yet they could never start the conversation. It was only right that whenever she had had enough of whatever was going on, she would cut herself a slack and make words of her worries.

And as though the turn had come, she stopped pacing suddenly. When she did, her sons were alert. It was funny that they had been wanting