She was small, wearing an oversized sweater with a hole in the sleeve, holding a baby against her shoulder.
The baby had her mother’s auburn hair. Her cheeks were pale instead of pink. The sign of a child not eating enough. Your Clara witmore. Your cleric more. Her eyes went wide. He saw the fear spike. How does he know my name? How did you? I traced the number. When I got your message, I traced it. I know that sounds. He stopped…..
To be continued in C0mments
This story
