Photograph by Josh Hild
Denise's gaze drowned in the crashing waves hitting the wooden edge of the pier, while John's soared with the seagulls. The rain eased to a gentle drizzle, then stopped, but the sky remained charged with the promise of tears as they strolled along—close enough to pretend, far enough to distance themselves from their loss.
When they stumbled across a sodden cardboard box under a bench, John gazed back at her, and she nodded, as if giving them permission to be. He opened the flaps.
Whiffs of baby shampoo with hints of lavender made him rock back, but Denise stepped closer, and kneeled. She swallowed her sweet and sour craving for motherhood and scooped up the sleeping infant.
The wind whispered, 'take me home’ through the softness of the newborn’s hair.
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