The oldest boy had an arm draped protectively around the girl beside him. The younger boy looked mid-motion, like he hadn’t been able to sit still for the shot. The smallest girl held a stuffed bear tight and pressed herself against her brother.
They didn’t seem optimistic.
They seemed prepared for impact.
I scrolled through the comments.
“So heartbreaking.”
“Shared.”
“Praying for them.”
Not a single person writing, “We’ll take them.”
I set my phone down.
Then picked it back up.
I knew the feeling of leaving a hospital with no one beside you.
Those children had already buried their parents.
And now the plan was to separate them, too.
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