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With a smile.
Because what else do you do.
“Because she spent twenty-three years alone with this,” he said.
“And she doesn’t have to anymore.”
They walked out of the doctor’s office.
Into the afternoon.
The groom.
The bride.
Still in their wedding clothes.
And a boy in a torn shirt.
Walking between them.
Toward a hospital on the north side.
Toward a woman who had made a mistake.
And had tried.
In the only way she knew how.