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Sweet Baby
#1
I am holding a baby at a clinic. The mother and grandmother and I are waiting and I start talking to them about the baby, who is healthy, and beautiful and smiling. The mom says I can hold her, and I do and she is such a wonderful baby! Grandma seems to be a tad suspicious of me, but maybe it is a language barrier issue. Mom is open and talkative. The baby's mother says they owe $70,000 to retail stores (I think) and have no way to repay it. I am wracking my brain for a possible solution for them. How can they get out from under all that debt? I am still holding the baby when a bunch of what seem to be gang members, wearing black tee shirts with flourescent colored iconography and lots of chains and metal, enter the room and mill around. One young man comes over and looks at me, a little perturbed. I realize he is the father of the baby, so I hand her over and say something about her being so glad to see her daddy. He smiles at the baby, and is relieved that I am a low-key, understanding sort of person. They leave and I look around for my coffe cup which has gone missing. I feels as though I am stuck waiting in this messy waiting room for awhile to come. I am waiting for something that is not the usual fare for this place, so it will take even longer.
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