It was cold and the sky was black as Mary watched them nail her son to the cross. She wondered if anybody would ever remember this day.
The anti-theft alarm echoes. She fumbles as the baby cries. A formula can falls from her coat. Bystanders avoid her eyes. He offers to pay.
It must be a special day, he thought. It was so rare now to see his parents in the same room. “We have something to tell you,” Dad said.
She awoke to syrup on her arm and a plate held by little sticky fingers. “Happy Valentine’s Day, mommy.” A bite was missing from the heart.
“You keep leaving. I can’t trust you.” I stared out the window. My mother lowered her newspaper. “Don’t talk to the snow. It isn’t healthy.”
He had only one kidney left when his daughter needed a transplant. He shot himself at the hospital, a note in his hand read, “Take it now!”