Scratch the souls

The smell of incense and perfumes wafts throughout the modest hall, the low voice of the announcer on the TV channel sounds like a whisper barely intelligible, but it gives the home a human spirit. Umm Abadi is busy making Maamoul, rolling the dough between her palms to shape it and placing it in glass jars, her face showing signs of distress and confusion. On a nearby bed, Abadi is lying pretending to watch TV, but he glances at his mother with worried looks, feeling regretful because he told her what happened in the episode. - Does my mother feel jealous of the wealthy lady? - Does that lady harbor evil intentions towards me? - Why do I feel strange about her looks? He did not satisfy his mother, and he made promises to ensure that the elderly woman would not harm her. From a wounded story in the vegetable market