The day I went to my wife’s grave, like I did every year, I never
David’s breath caught, his world narrowing to the headstone, the child, and the photograph clutched desperately in the boy’s hands. He recognized the image; it was one of Lucinda’s favorites. A candid shot, taken on a beach vacation. Her hair was tangled by the wind, her eyes laughing as if she harbored a secret only…
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