“My fingers curl into fists, automatically This is the way, my mother said, of every baby’s hand. I do not know if these hands will become Malcolm’s – raised and fisted or Martin’s – open and asking or James’s – curled around a pen.”
“My fingers curl into fists, automatically This is the way, my mother said, of every baby’s hand. I do not know if these hands will become Malcolm’s – raised and fisted or Martin’s – open and asking or James’s – curled around a pen.”
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