And so, the next day, Saturday, Faye and Malo decided to visit Ms. Martha's house.
The poor woman was in the living room, resting on her armchair. She looked thinner than the last time Faye had seen her. Her pale skin looked almost translucent under the dim light, her chest rising and falling in short, rapid puffs that showed just how hard her body was working to keep going.
"I can't do this," Faye muttered beside Malo. They happened to be standing by the entrance, watching the fragile woman. She clutched the strap of her bag tightly, her eyes widening as a sharp wave of guilt made her heart hammer a fast, painful rhythm against her ribs. "I told her that I was going to bring my pups on my next visit."
"Should I go bring them now? It won't take long." Malo whispered back. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his own lungs pulling in a tight, anxious breath as he looked at the sick woman.
