Ismael stared out the window as the sun died on the horizon. In his little hand, he held the last piece of the puzzle he'd been assembling with his mother. The boy was waiting for her to wake up, still hoping they would complete it together.
"Are you alone?" her voice was like sandpaper rubbing against a stone.
He turned to his mom. After being bedridden for weeks in this hospital room, she looked pale and withered. There were dark circles around her eyes.
"Everyone's gone now," he said.
A weak smile crossed her parched lips.
"But you're not everyone, right?"
"No." The boy smiled back, though he did not feel like it.
"How did you do on your exam?"
"Nineteen points." Ismael dropped his gaze, embarrassed. He squeezed the puzzle piece of the monarch butterfly in his hand.
"Why not twenty?" She gestured him to come closer. "I'm sure it's your teacher's fault. She's jealous of how smart you are." A brief coughing fit interrupted her. "You are my special angel. Never settle for less than you deserve."
"Mother, I've saved the last piece for you."
"Ismael?" She reached for her son but missed him. And Ismael knew she couldn't see anymore. "Promise me you will be great."
"Mom?"
"Promise me, Ismael. Promise me!"
"Mama, are you okay?"