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His dark, straight hair clung to the sides of his face, and he didn't brush it away. His eyes strained with worry.
"But I was born today, and isn't it funny how no ones gets to remember that moment and who was there? It's all what's told to you. You're here now. You are a mother to me."
Etsuko covered her mouth with her open palm and let his words go through her. Somewhere after being sorry, there had to be another day, and even after a conviction, there could be good in the judgment. At last, Etsuko shut off the water and put down the swollen yellow sponge in the sink. The curved brass spout let go its last few drops, and the kitchen grew silent. Etsuko reached over to hold the child on his birthday.
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