Guilt. Again.

When I awoke, guilt seemed to coat the surface of my heart like a shadowy film. For the span of a few seconds, I could hardly comprehend the reason for it, but there it was. Guilt. Shame. Regret. It was as if my conscience never slept, but stood immortally over my shoulder, scowling at me as I slept, meeting me with a severe scowl as soon as I became conscious. When my mind focused to form a coherent stream of thought, I realized where the feeling was coming from.

I was lying in my bed under the covers, my son's slumbering body draped limply over mine. We were...