Maria walks inside the nursery room.

Instantly, she feels the cold air meet her skin, the forlorn emptiness of the room.

What once was a little bundle of joy inside her swelling belly is now gone. Her baby was a still baby. But during those months the baby was in her womb, she could already feel talking to him. Knowing his passions. Learning what he hates or what he loves. Will he become a pilot? Will he become a doctor? Will he be a great man, successful and famous; or will he choose to stay ordinary like me? Maria thought.

Maria crosses over to the crib. The toys. The baby clothes neatly folded in one corner. The shoes he will never wear.

She catches a glimpse of the ultrasound pictures, framed in a picture frame. She brings it to her chest.

She cries.

 

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