She was dressed for work. The baby in her arms was barely a week old. They were on the local train at peak office hours. She knew how to handle the wailing child, but that special bond one expects was missing. She told me he was not hers, that he had been found abandoned and she was talking him to an orphanage.
He was beautiful. I saw my babies in him, longed to hug him, bring him home with me.
How any mother could have abandoned him, I could not understand. Still can’t.
Circumstance is a terrible thing, isn’t it?