Infertility

She turns to him with eyes that shade of moist which means they harbor tears as yet uncried. “I cannot have children,” she says, finally relieved of her burden, her personal, devastating tragedy.

            “Oh,” he says, “that’s all right. I have enough children as it is,” and does not understand why her eyes suddenly harden and dry and turn what he cannot put his finger on but that anyone with a modicum of empathy would recognized as hostile.

::

 Copyright © 2007 by Wolfstuff

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Ulf Wolf 

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