Carry, by Keith Morris

The sun through the blinds behind her dimmed slightly to the smile she gave him when they first spoke each morning. No matter the days’ fluctuating moods, even if the smile disappeared, her eyes emitted contagious joy, a joy from elsewhere, one only she could channel. When she announced the good news, unsurprisingly, he felt her irradiant happiness in congratulatory embrace. Love created so joy could beget joy. Naturally, he would share her happiness.

That was before the blood.

Her smile occasionally appears, but the eyes seem eclipsed by the barrenness that she subconsciously embraces with her hands, alone.

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