The first time I noticed them, I didn’t think “kind.” I thought “why are they staring?”
Across the street from my toddler’s hospital room, a construction crew worked steel and concrete from sunrise to late afternoon. Their hard hats flashed in the light. Their voices carried when the window was cracked.
Not quick glances. Not curiosity.
Watching.
My son lay small in white sheets, pale enough that his eyelashes looked too dark. Tubes ran to machines that beeped like impatient clocks.
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