« Gone. »
She looked at the note, looked at me, then pressed her hand flat against her chest.
« What in the world?! »
« Honey, you can’t raise three babies alone! »
« I know! »
« You don’t even know how to warm a bottle. »
I sighed.
My neighbor knelt beside me. I was thinking she was probably right when the smallest baby reached up, blind and searching, and her fist closed around my index finger. It was tiny, warm, and strong in a way that didn’t make any sense for a six-month-old.
I didn’t move. I couldn’t.
I was thinking she was probably right.
Continue on the next page:
