The chains had gotten a lot thicker since the birth, both of
them shuffling with links thick as baseball bats around their ankles. Suze, in particular, had a nasty iron padlock
hanging from her neck that left her forever leaning forward.
“We knew going in it was going to be hard,” said Reg. He rattled the chains on his wrist. “I wouldn’t undo these even if I could.”
In the bassinet, the infant slumbered. He’d opened his eyes, at least, and decided
to stay in the world; I could see the first hair-fine chain dangling from
around his tender neck.
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