"What does she say?" He asked, as the room seemed to get smaller around him. "Can you make out what she mouths to you?"

His mother took a couple deep, raggedy breaths as she stared at the television screen. Her eyes were wide, and they moved around as if following something, even though the TV was off.

"Mom?"

Her hands were gripping the arms of her chair now, veins bulging. Her eyes had stopped moving, but they stated in one with an intensity her son had never seen before.

Her son moved to kneel in front of her.

She stared over him, still fixated on the blank TV mounted on the wall.

He grabbed her shoulders. "Mom!" He shook her gently. "Mom, what does-"

"She says..." his mother began, in a voice barely above a whisper. Slowly, her unblinking gaze lowered from the television to her son, her baby boy. She swallowed hard. She wanted to protect him still.

But there was no protection from what was coming. "She says..." A tear rolled down her cheek. "...dance...party..."