“squeak, squeak …”

I pretty much have no idea why she is crying. Well, I have an idea or two, but she can’t tell me, can’t confirm. I do everything I can.

Finally, I sit on the couch holding her as  she cries. For an hour.

Good thing this blog is anonymous.

Nothing to do but hold her. As she cries. Except, of course, to cry too.

What a man.

What a god. My plate is full.


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  2. By Claire


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