(no subject)
In his life, Bill's lost a lot of things. He's lost gemstones and portkeys and girlfriends and directions. He's lost keys to doors and telephone numbers and ideas and clothes and business cards and money, but he's never lost family, and elderly little-known aunts or uncles don't count.
He lost two of his brothers and no matter how he tries to explain that away, he can't. He can't see to make it into something fair no matter what, and on top of that, his wife's lost her mother and sister. It all seems a terrible price to pay.
And yet life goes on: they have children on the way. Making a sandwich of his wife, he rubs her stomach and back at the same time. "Charlie," he says. "Charlie."
He lost two of his brothers and no matter how he tries to explain that away, he can't. He can't see to make it into something fair no matter what, and on top of that, his wife's lost her mother and sister. It all seems a terrible price to pay.
And yet life goes on: they have children on the way. Making a sandwich of his wife, he rubs her stomach and back at the same time. "Charlie," he says. "Charlie."