Brian stepped into the apartment building, his boots echoing down the hallway as he made his way to unit 114. He was expecting a quiet evening, maybe a tired smile from his mom—but what he saw stopped him in his tracks.
"Hey there, handsome," his mom called out, her raspy voice full of mischief.
Helena stood in front of the TV in her pajamas, dancing to a Latin beat playing softly from the speakers. She twirled with surprising grace, her arms swaying in rhythm. Brian planted his hands on his hips and raised an eyebrow.
"Mom… aren't you sick? You look more healthy than I do."
She chuckled. "The enemy's just on hold, Sweety. They haven't fired yet."
Brian couldn't help but laugh. She waved him over. "Come on, help me out."
He shrugged and joined her.
"You know anything about ballroom dancing?" she asked.
Brian shook his head.
"You play music, don't you? so you know rhythm."
He nodded, and they clasped hands. Helena guided him into a basic beginner's box step.
"Watch your feet, don't step too far. You might trip over your beloved," she teased.
"Back right… left… pause," she instructed, her voice gentle but firm.
At first, Brian stumbled through the steps, awkward and unsure. But slowly, he found the rhythm. They danced across the living room, ending with a playful spin and a dramatic dip. He knelt before her, catching his breath.
"Don't worry, Mom. I'm going to get a job to buy you a house of gold."
Helena squeezed his hand. "Even if you do, keep it. I don't need your money."
"Why would you say that? I'll be working full-time in three years."
She sighed. "Promise me you won't end up like your father."
He looked down. "You've done everything for me. You came home from work and still made dinner. You think I didn't notice?"
"I know, sweetheart. I know." She pulled him into a hug, then turned off the TV and disappeared into her bedroom.
Brian collapsed onto the couch. "Why is talking to you always so damn hard?" he muttered, rubbing his eyes.
He grabbed the remote and flipped on the news. A holographic anchor appeared, reporting on the escalating conflict in the Middle East.
"…and now we turn to Professor Bernard McGavin for analysis," the anchor said.
The screen shifted to a bearded professor pointing at a glowing map behind him.
"It appears the SIZ terrorist group has seized control of the Al-Wasz chemical research station. While the situation hasn't reached critical levels, their leader, Karsarz Hamed, has issued a warning for civilians to evacuate the area."
Suddenly, the screen went black, leaving only Brian's reflection staring back at him.
"Lights off," he said.
Suddenly, the room dimmed, leaving only the soft glow of the TV. Brian closed his eyes while hearing a man speaking.
"I am here in the name of the leader of SIZ. Our people are suffering because of interference from outsiders. They send in their troops to invade our home! I will tolerate this filthy act no more and will respond with higher measures. If peace isn't what they wanted. I will send them troops back in piec-- pi-- pi--PIECE--S."
And the television signal was gone.