The kind you feel in your heart.
My little girl is eating pizza out of the box. She is sick with the flu, her nose runny, her cheeks flushed. She coughs a little.
But she loves pizza.
Sitting there at the coffee table in front of the TV, in her frilly pink dress and red sweater, using her small hands to pick at the slice of chicken pepperoni extra cheese.
My heart skips another beat. Another pang.
My little girl is eating pizza out of the box. She is sick with the flu, her nose runny, her cheeks flushed. She coughs a little.
But she loves pizza.
Sitting there at the coffee table in front of the TV, in her frilly pink dress and red sweater, using her small hands to pick at the slice of chicken pepperoni extra cheese.
My heart skips another beat. Another pang.
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