he answered. “Every time I walk past that door, I feel like I’m being buried alive.”
“He was your son, Thomas.”
He pulled the zipper closed.
“So you’re walking away… from him. From me. Two weeks after we buried him.”
He stared at the floor.
“I asked you to pack the nursery,” he said quietly. “Weeks ago. You wouldn’t.”
“It’s an empty room, Kate. It’s an empty room and it’s killing both of us.”
“How do you think I feel? I’m the one who carried him. He was alive inside
