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Olive

6

Last month, Olive turned six years old.

I woke up in the soft grey of early morning and made waffles in our quiet kitchen, my feet cold against the stone tiles.

As I did, I thought about each of the past six years, right back to the beginning. Those months where I carried her inside of me; when I became so used to her tumbling, kicking, curious presence that my belly felt oddly still and empty after.

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