Sid abruptly shifted his eyes away from her naked form, fixing his gaze on the ceiling above the sofa. He went completely limp, his breathing deepening and evening out instantly, pretending to be deep in an unconscious sleep. He waited, his mind racing, hoping his simulated slumber would deter whatever strange motive the mother had.
The silence returned, broken only by the chirping crickets outside and the unnerving, soft sound of the mother's bare feet taking a slow step toward the sofa. Slowly, the sound of her steps and her shallow breathing grew louder. The air around her seemed to thicken, turning hot and suffocating in the cold night, and his heart hammered when he felt the soft, warm pressure of her hand settle squarely on his thigh. His mind detonated:
"What— the hell?! Get your filthy hand off me! Why is she touching me?!"
