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332 pages, Kindle Edition
First published November 14, 2017
I have delivered over a thousand babies in my career, but one in particular stands out in my mind. Weylyn was by all outward appearances a healthy baby boy: eight pounds, two ounces, all the necessary parts accounted for, and a wail that could shatter good china. He fit perfectly in the crook of his mother's arm and watched her with one eye, carefully, as she was still a stranger to him. I would have forgotten all about this seemingly ordinary child if it hadn't been for the storm.
The moment Weylyn took his first bewildered gulp of fresh air, it began to snow. Not just a few flurries, but buckets of the stuff, tumbling through the sky and belly flopping on the ground outside the hospital room window. By the time the nurses had him cleaned and swaddled, there was a good six inches on the ground.
It was June 29.
The child turned one eye on me, then opened the other like a backward wink. His irises were molten pools of solder that had not yet set, and for a moment I thought I could see a fire behind them, keeping them liquid.
"He's a healthy baby boy," I told the mother, trying my best not to sound unnerved.
Weylyn's eyes closed peacefully, and the snow melted almost as quickly as it had fallen, leaving shimmering gray puddles on the sidewalk below.