The boy had become ill quite suddenly. He was shivering, clutching the blanket to his body tightly.
“It’s your fault,” the father shouted. “You’re the one at home. You should have taken care.”
“Mine?!” the mother’s voice countered. “You’re always at work. If only you could spend some time with him.”
The argument had begun again. It only needed a trigger.
Both wanted to be right, but neither saw him close his eyes and cover his ears.
(© Vinay Leo R. @ I Rhyme Without Reason,
11th April, 2017)