What would you have inherited from from us, my little love? My eyes? My colouring? The snub of my button nose? My anxiety. My depression. This terrifying feeling of falling whenever I try to make a plan. And from him? He was tall. You could have been tall. And handsome. Oh how handsome he was. You would have been so beautiful. And your daddy was rich.
Your body would have mainly worked, though. If you’d got his knees instead of mine. And my shoulders and my lungs and my teeth.
You’d be rich and good looking and tall and insane. And you and I would be alone. No. It was for the best that you never were. Your inheritance would have been a curse.
Inheritance: the child that never was (https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/inheritance/)
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