“Mary died,” the midwife said, “I couldn’t save her, but you have been blessed with a baby boy.”
John pounded the table with his fist and with a heave, overturned it. The cup and saucer clattered to the floor while the wails and cries of an infant traveled from the other side of a closed door.
“God why did you take her?” he keened.
The midwife returned from the other room and placed the tiny child into his arms.
John prayed the baby would die. His life would be worthless without Mary. Damn the child.