New joint. Unborn. Red Lightbulbs.

Fathers. Unborn children. Death. Sadness.  Flash fiction? Totally. And big thanks to the Red Lightbulbs for that. Excerpt? Word.

"He says to me, too bad it wasn't my dad, because that would be fine with me and better for the world as well. He says this because he is a friend. He also says this because he hates his dad. But he especially says this because he doesn't know what it's like to lose a father."