That is how she finds you: on breastfeeding
The mother opened her mouth, waiting for her daughter’s breath to reach hers, to smell the milk stuck between ridges of her tiny tongue. It was dark so the mother couldn’t see it covered with flecks of white like snowflakes in the sun, but she knew they were there—the delicate sweetness of her own body inside her daughter’s body. A tender gesture betwee…
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