Your heart begins to pound for a reason you do not yet understand. You know abandoned things. You know the feeling of being left where someone hopes another person might deal with you. You know the terrifying quiet that follows.
When you lift the edge of the blanket, your whole world changes.
There are three babies inside.
Three boys. Identical. Tiny and red-cheeked and impossibly beautiful, wrapped in matching blue knit onesies so soft they almost shine. Their eyelashes are pale gold. Their skin looks cared for. Their bottles, tucked carefully into the basket, are made of glass. One of them opens his eyes, and the color is so startlingly blue that you actually lean back.
No.
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