Just a Drink
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- Parts 2
It should've been me. I should've been the one, instead here I sit with a drink in my hand. My seven year old son staring at me with those curious deer eyes, wondering what ever happened to his mother. How am I ever going to tell him that his mother stopped breathing without breaking down into tears? How am I going to be able to comfort him when I can't even stand on my own two feet.
"Daddy?" He asks. I take a swig of my drink.
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#151
rememberance
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