The Photograph of a Newborn in a Yellow Knitted Hat
Lily kept the coat on.
She sat on the small footstool by the glowing heater, her eyes on the baseboard.
“The radiator pipes make four clicks every five minutes,” Lily said, her voice flat and clear.
“They always do when the evening turns cold,” I said, coming in with a plate of ginger biscuits.
“The pipes in our apartment make eight clicks,” Lily said.
I held out the plate.
“Are you hungry, Lily?
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