The Photograph of a Newborn in a Yellow Knitted Hat
“They’re escaping the dark island on a wooden raft.”
“Are they going to make it back to the mainland?”
“The ocean current is strong.
They have to row perfectly straight.”
I rested my tired head against the soft back of the sofa.
I watched the bright firelight dance across the red brick chimney.
The house was finally quiet, but it wasn’t empty anymore.
I watched my daughter read until the brass grandfather clock in the hall chimed nine times.
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