After five sons, my wife finally got the daughter she had dreamed of. But when our baby opened her eyes, Claire went pale — and whispered something I couldn’t explain.
Our house had six voices louder than any television, and most nights I fell asleep to the sound of at least two of them arguing about whose turn it was in the shower.
I was thirty-four, the father of five boys, and the husband of a woman who had wanted a daughter since long before she wanted me.
« I just wanted one. »
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