I’m Sorry You Feel That Way

by Rebecca Wait

And that night, unable to sleep, she had sat up in bed hour after hour, thinking of Hanna. Most of all, she finds herself thinking of Hanna as a newborn baby: her beady little eyes like dark berries, her funny pursed mouth. The impossibly soft curls at the nape of her neck. It is one of nature’s greatest cruelties that our children grow up and leave us.