A Nurse Mentioned the Woman Visiting My Dying Husband—Then She Came to My Door With a Letter About a Five-Year-Old Boy
He looked at the papers.
“I wish I could.”
“Then tell me.”
“You already have enough to carry.”
“That isn’t your decision to make.”
“It should be sometimes.”
I stared at him.
He put the coat over the back of a chair.
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