A Prayer for Love
She remained silent, her eyes fixed greedily on the cards on the table.
Then she picked one up, caressed it, and asked me what the PIN was.
I stared at her face, watching it flush with excitement.
"My birthday," I said coldly.
She looked at me and then muttered, "Zero-one-zero-four," repeatedly, oblivious to my lowered gaze.
"Mommy, my birthday has never been January 4th.
"My shoe size is six. I don't like spicy food. I'm allergic to milk, which makes me break out in hives. And January 4th isn't my birthday.
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