A Nurse Mentioned the Woman Visiting My Dying Husband—Then She Came to My Door With a Letter About a Five-Year-Old Boy
She offered me a cushion for my back.
I accepted it because refusing ordinary comfort had begun to feel like another unnecessary job.
Mrs.
Callahan placed the photograph between us.
Two boys stood close together.
The image was faded.
One face was turned slightly away, as though someone had spoken just before the photograph was taken.
“That’s Simon,” she said, indicating one child.
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