But Eunice cannot move on. She lies alone in the dark and waits for her little boy to come home. The waiting is all that she has now.” Carolyn looked at the sad woman bustling about in her kitchen and felt something stir inside herself. It was compassion, though she did not recognize it as such. It was not something she felt often. “Oh,” she said softly, “I see.” “She thinks that if her son were to come home now it would be like waking from a dream. She would feel again. But the boy will not come home, and though she will not allow herself to know this, she knows it anyway. And so she makes
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