Vivian Garcia glared out the window at the front lawn. The grass was horrendously overgrown.

"That boy," the buxom Latina woman grumbled to herself.

Bobby, her bum of a stepson, was supposed to have it mowed last week. Yet he had not accomplished the simple chore. Bobby had done nothing but act lazy & rebellious ever since his father's mysterious disappearance three years earlier. Of course, as the mother, she sympathized with her son. The two were not blood-related, but she had raised the boy since he was a toddler. Her loving bosom had comforted the child those many stormy nights & again when the boy's father disappeared. But since Bobby had dropped out of college & moved back in with her, the boy's behavior had reached a whole new level.

Vivian nudged Bobby's bedroom door. The sound of avalanching beer cans echoed from the other side. She shimmied the door the rest of the way open, pushing the stack of crinkled cans into the corner.

Bobby, her teenage stepson, lay asleep in his bed with his dark hair plastered to his forehead & mouth hung open lazily. She noticed the sweat coating his light skin. He was sleeping off another night of heavy drinking. Vivian gently tugged his shoulder.

"Come on, Bobby," she urged soothingly, "The sun will be down in a few hours & I need that grass cut."

Bobby rolled over & groaned, "Five more minutes."

The mother rubbed his back, "Alright. But I want to hear that mower running in twenty."

Vivian collected a few scattered beer cans & exited the room.

"And I really wish that you wouldn't drink in the house," she spoke as she closed the door, "You're still only nineteen."

She shook her head as she walked down the hall. The woman didn't know what she should do about her stepson. She had married Bryan, Bobby's father, when she was in her early twenties. Even though she had been young & inexperienced as a parent, she had done her best to be a good mother figure for the young Bobby. But now that he had reached manhood & his father wasn't around for support, she felt lost more than ever.

"Oh, Bryan, if only you were here," she often spoke to her missing husband.

She held herself & stared into the hallway mirror. Her fingers combed through her long brunette hair. She frowned at the mole that dotted her cheek. It was a smudge on her otherwise perfectly smooth caramel skin. She felt down the curve of her body to her wide hips. She smiled softly. Bryan always used to squeeze her hips. Though Bryan & Vivian had never had children together, the couple shared themselves often in the ten years they were married. Oh, how she missed it.

The young mother had a lot on her mind. From her adult son living at home to the loneliness that burdened her heart, she was emotionally stressed. She tried to distract herself by watching TV. But nowadays, all the TV ever broadcasted was news about the supposed "Shrinking Virus" spreading around. People everywhere were shrinking in size, some down to just a few inches. The broadcastings stressed the importance of staying home & avoiding others who may be carrying the virus. The isolation only contributed to her loneliness.

An egg cracked on the sizzling frying pan. She pushed the contents around with a spatula. Cooking always calmed her mind. Perhaps the smell of warm peppered omelet would revive her boy from his stoop. She set the boy's afternoon breakfast on the table.

"Hurry up!" Vivian yelled upstairs, "Your food is going to get cold!"

She rhythmically tapped her slippered foot on the linoleum floor. She wondered why she wasn't hearing any movement from Bobby's room. Usually, the promise of warm food at least got him out of bed. She huffed & stomped her feet up the stairs. Her steps were loud enough that she was sure Bobby could hear them from his room. It was a final warning for the boy to get his lazy butt up & moving. She kicked open the door & entered his room. She froze & looked around with a confused expression. Bobby was gone.