Forty
‘Forty.’ Carrie whispered, as the clock hit 12:01. Her utterance echoing in the empty, black living room.
Sinking into the cushioning of her weathered leather couch, Carrie cradled her new born against her chest. Willing its little eyes to close, little lungs to quiet and begged for sleep to render it still. As she looked upon the red face of her shrieking baby it was that word, Forty, pounding in her ears like the thundering beats of a heavy metal song.
