It felt like something else, something intentional.
“Daddy, is it getting dark already?”
Maya’s voice was a tiny, fragile whisper.
Jerry swallowed the lump in his throat. It was barely two in the afternoon.
“No, my princess,” he said, pulling her close. “It’s just a big cloud passing over. I’m right here.”
A wave of dizziness hit him, the kind of exhaustion that comes from not sleeping for weeks. His doctor had told him to rest. But how do you sleep when your only child is slipping into darkness?
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