“I’m very sorry.”
Trite. Not contrite. Not admitting fault. Simply what was expected.
What was expected. The horror was that he had expected this. He had hoped it was just pessimism, not prophecy.
“Both her, and the baby?”
“I’m very sorry.”
Sincere, he thought. Dreadfully sincere.
He wanted desperately to be sincere too. But there was nothing to say.
“So am I.”
About the Creator
Frank W Law
Writer, Thinker. Maker-up of things. Other applicable adjectives available at request.
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