Hair wisps over her ears and into her eyes, straight and the color of straw. Her hands are fat…
My baby is sick. Her little body is hot, as white cells that I can’t see try to fight off…
Hair wisps over her ears and into her eyes, straight and the color of straw. Her hands are fat…
My baby is sick. Her little body is hot, as white cells that I can’t see try to fight off…