The woman held the shaking boy gently in her arms to calm him. Moments ago his shrieking had shook the walls, so she had told him that boys didn’t cry; and he stopped, like a switch had been turned off. Now she wished she had not said that. It was a lie; boys do cry and so should he. He, above all others, should have that right; a nameless creation, not really a child, with an uncertain destiny and a future certain to be filled with pain. So she held him and cried for him, because no one else would.

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