Standing in the shadows in ripped jeans and hoodie, she watched his boy entered the building and before long, the apartment became lit in a dim orange glow.
“You are not to have contact with your son.” The court-appointed social-worker’s voice once again boomed in her mind. She sniffed, wiping the tears from her eyes.
“I did not endanger my child,” she said aloud. It was his fault. He endangered my baby. He’s the reason I can’t keep a job. His fault. All his fault.
She gazed at the apartment, smiling sadly, “We will be together again someday, I promise.”