The baby, my mind directly flew to like a bird taking off in raucous flight. Cate and I had endlessly tried to get pregnant. False positives came every few months with no baby in tow. It was the most defeating of all things in our relationship. Finally, after two years of trying and no answers, we had received a positive through blood work and a confirmed pregnancy from an ultrasound. And after two months, the pregnancy was gone and Cate was crying on the hardwood floor of our bedroom nightly, waiting for my comfort when I came home from endless work.
I furiously dug through the closet for our hiking equipment. It was one of our favorite past-times and the way I made it up to Cate when we sat down and talked about how I was at work all the time and I was so sorry I couldn’t have been there for her more in her desperate times of need. Inside her hiking shoes was another slice of paper, this one folded and wrinkled.
You know the things that make me TICk.
You know I hate arithmeTIC.
Now go up to the atTIC.
This was the point in which my heart sunk. Our apartment was on the top floor of all apartments and actually contained a pull-down rope attic, a small space for us to store multiple containers and things, if we wanted to. I had never personally put anything in our storage because I thought it was creepy, but obviously Cate had utilized the space and now my mind was running in circles because I had no clue whatsoever what could be up there.
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