“I’m supposed to give you presents on your birthday,” she murmurs, “not the other way around.” “You’ve given me enough to last a hundred more birthdays, love.” At twenty-five, I am in desperate love with a girl who desperately loves me back. There is nothing more that I want than to experience life with her. She touches Moffy’s tiny fingers, and she skims his cheek with a gentle, caring brush of her thumb. My family. My wife. My son. Never did I think I’d be the recipient of fragile, precious things. Every single part of me is alive today. And it’ll be tomorrow. I’m not dying in my own body
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