The Bump

Obrázek uživatele Lyta

Sometimes Emma still had the nightmares. In them, she was touching her baby bump. She could feel the pitying looks her cellmates gave her. When they've found out that the baby's father was gone. Or that she was giving it up for adoption. Or that she was only seventeen.

Each time she would wake up crying.

Years passed and they became rarer with every one of them. She hoped that maybe one day, she would forget it altogether.

At least up to the day when she opened the door and there was this kid.

"My name's Henry. I'm your son."


Obrázek uživatele Iantouch


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