We laugh, but not easily. For a moment there is a silence and it’s not totally unwarranted, not entirely unwanted; it gives us a breath to look at what someone, somewhere, created. I don’t know what kind of an eye it takes to craft nature. I can barely write a sentence sometimes. I used to think about that when I looked at Jax, especially when he was a baby. The spiderweb-soft skin, so ephemeral as to barely exist. Nothing to mar that perfect cheek, not even a freckle.
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