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Three years passed. Diana had been working as a seamstress, never stepping outside her hut, and paying a young man to bring her food every morning. She was only 23, but she appeared as a sickly woman in her mid-fifties. Honestly, she was miserable, and questioned what the point in living was. But she lived on; other than the coughing, her health remained stubbornly perfect. Then the unthinkable happened. Her next-door neighbor walked into her hut—carrying his newborn son. She hustled them out as immediately as she could, but it wasn't fast enough.
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3/22/2014 10:10:56 PM
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