When Winter Blooms
I thought about being four years old and that sure, I thought about what it cost and what it was worth.
Parents arrived in the particular way of people who are trying to appear casual about something they are not remotely casual about: phones out, good angles identified, the collective held breath of people about to be completely undone by small children singing about weather.
Ethan had not been to one of these before, I knew that without asking, through observation, through the texture of his silences. He'd missed the winter one. He'd been in Tokyo, he'd sent flowers to the nursery, which Lily had accepted graciously and which had not, she'd made clear, been quite the same.
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