". . . she watches as the man tenderly brushes his hand across the woman's cheek, as if he's brushing away a stray tear. Kathy is openly staring now. She can't help but notice the hungry way the woman is gazing at Will, who is still trying to throw and catch the purple ball. She can't not see the shape of the woman's chin, or the shade of the man's skin, so like her son's. Kathy watches the woman close her eyes for a moment and sigh.

They have no right, she thinks. They have no right to come here to see him. They gave him up and he's mine. How dare they?"





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