The Photograph of a Newborn in a Yellow Knitted Hat

“She has a custody grant signed by Paul,” I said, laying the blue paper beside the peppermints.

“Dated the week I was in the coma.”

Arthur put his glasses back on and pulled the blue sheet under the lamp, his fingernail tracing Paul’s signature.

“Paul,” Arthur murmured.

“That’s his hand.

He always crossed his t’s with that sharp hook.”

“How could he sign my baby away without my consent?” I asked.

“Who signed the hospital release forms?”