Non Blood Relatives

Here they are, each in their prime. They’ve been called “the boss”, “thinks he’s people,” and “the [baby] replacement.” But mostly they’re our witnesses. They’ve seen every birth, every blow-up, every good day. There’s a worn patch in the finish on our wood floors and a hollow in the couch as evidence of two of them. The empty space in the crook of my arm at night, as I sleep, is testimony of the one who’s gone.

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