Missing Pieces

The next time was innocent too. After baby Nate's death, after sending those poor grieving parents home, she hadn't felt ready to go back to her place yet. She went to the crib with the aim of sleeping just enough to cleanse her memory before going to her own bed. He was there again—he'd been in court all day, which she knew he hated. It must have exhausted him, because his glasses, tie, jacket and shoes were tossed haphazardly underneath the edge of the bunk and he was on his stomach, face buried in the crook of his right arm. Her instinct told her to leave, or at least pick a bed on the other side of the room, but instead she sat down in the mattress next to his and toed off her boots. She rolled over and tried to ignore the steady sound of his breathing.