“Emily, it’s daycare drop-off. Not brain surgery.”
Ava lifted Mr. Bun-Bun proudly.
“Daddy can do it!”
I kissed the top of her head.
“I’ll pick you up later, okay?”
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“Emily, it’s daycare drop-off. Not brain surgery.”
Ava lifted Mr. Bun-Bun proudly.
“Daddy can do it!”
I kissed the top of her head.
“I’ll pick you up later, okay?”
The fluorescent, tube style lighting of the pediatric clinic staff pantry hummed a dull, monotonous, vibrating tune. It was a frequency that usually faded…