Aviva

Three month old Lexa’s dark blue eyes are wide and round as she grips Mercy’s arm. Her eyes go glassy as her lower lip begins to tremble, her little face twisting with pitiful sorrow.

“I’ll be back tomorrow morning,” I try to assure her, but my voice wobbles with sudden heartbreak. I look at my sister, desperate and unsure. “It’s too early, isn’t it? Leaving her like this?”

Mercy rolls her eyes. “You’re going to be gone for like… ten hours, Aviva. She’s fine. She has plenty of milk–”

I take a single step away, and Lexa wails.

We’re attached, that’s clear. I’ve been wearing her on my chest...