Lara forced her eyes to the page. Accessory navicular syndrome. The precise descriptions made anomalies seem manageable. The words became a converter to transform life’s chaos.
She says she’s having a baby.
Strange, given her age.
Stranger still, she says it’s my baby.
Not possible, I say. But I’m not sure I mind. So, what are you planning to do about it?
Her husband’s hackles settled an inch or two and the air around him lost a few amperes of electricity. His graying hair, flirting with his collar, seemed to relax as well. “What I said was: they need us to sign some paperwork before they let him come home.”