The zipper to the side pocket, even though it is made of a very lightweight plastic, is heavy and unwieldy in your hands. After a few moments' struggle, you manage to wedge a few teeth apart and wriggle your way into the pocket, climbing in next to an extremely large, and somewhat leaky, red pen. Closing the zipper from your angle is impossible, so you settle in to wait for a few moments.
Before long you sense the vibration of the woman returning from the bathroom.
"There you go, baby, isn't that better?" The woman's voice is stronger than it was before, the natural action of a mother bathing her child soothing her previously rough voice.
"Yeah, Mommy. Can we watch TV now?"
"Sure, Jenny, just keep it turned down, ok. Mommy, needs to take a nap."
You feel the shifting of the backpack as the woman sits upon the edge of the bed, softly shifting her weight to recline.
Suddenly, you hear a hard banging against the front door.
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