As I expect, the room is a matchbox. There’s a low single bed, threadbare blankets, colorless pillows.
And right next to all that sits a baby bassinet.
I hear a string of gargling noises, punctured by a sharp cry every now and again.
Then I see a little fist rise from the bassinet before disappearing from view.
I freeze instinctively, but Esme moves forward. I watch as she stands over the bassinet and looks down with a transformative smile on her face.
“Hola, little bird,” she coos, her tone thick with love. “Did you sleep well?”
I see his hand reach for her. He grabs one of her fingers tightly. Esme leans in and kisses his brow.
“I have someone special I want you to meet,” she whispers.
Then she plucks the baby from the bassinet.
I feel my heart churn in a way I’ve never actually
