The boy would never know just how lucky he was. Gerald noted the lady’s eyes brighten as she caught sight of him making his way through the throng towards her. She repeated this breathlessly. Constantly sick with the croup or diaper rash. ‘They’ve gone, miss,’ came the answer, muffled through the panel door. His fatigue was tacitly understood within the family; it was a phenomenon which everyone acknowledged as related to the trades. He drove her home that night, kissing her again and again at stoplights.
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