87
LYNNE
I love you….
I lay in bed in the darkness, unable to stop crying. It was a dream, but it felt so real. He’d come back to us. We made love. I felt his lips, his body, his breath on my skin. I felt the familiar softness of his beard.
I was screaming inside, my love for him mingling with the deep sadness I felt at my loss—and my anger at him for leaving. Why did it have to be you? Why couldn’t you have just mailed it to the authorities? Why did you have to do it yourself?
The baby started to cry. I went to him, lifting him from his crib, cuddling him. He was so perceptive. As young as he was, he sensed my pain. He picked up on my fear, the fear that had prompted me to move his crib into my bedroom so that he would never be out of my sight. He’s all I have left, I thought angrily
