In that quiet city of ghosts.
The son was found on a quiet street, in his pyjamas distressed and hysterical pointing back to the small low rent house.
He was mentally impaired and his mother was quiet
She was quiet and kept to herself
She could be seen some mornings scooting with her son down the hill to the local school, some mornings not.
He was led away in his socks by relatives
The quiet mother was unwell.
Winter in that part of the world could fall like a slab of cement
It gained weight if you lived on the wrong side of the street, shade imposing an icy months' long sentence.
It required resources to work lose from the pressing night air seeping out of the early darkness
People were invisible, they floated into their homes unseen and stayed there while outside the street lights were like sharp sticks in the eye.