Work Text:
Her eyes burn in the dimming light, words swimming and illustrations blurring.
She groans, pinching between her eyes.
This is an endurance race not a marathon, but she can't help wanting to solve this as soon as possible. She doesn't have forever, and she was already old when Lloyd was born.
Oh, Lloyd.
She flips through her papers, finding the school's letter. A photo of her little boy had been enclosed. A teacher had helped him decorate a uniform sweater.
She picks it up, and hisses. The edge cut her finger, and a bit of red smears over his face.