A. E. Lowan

A plaintive cry pierced the night and woke Etienne from a light sleep. His son, Noel, was hungry and it was his night to tend him. Etienne swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat up, running a hand through his hair, then catching it up in his hand, and securing it with a hair tie from his nightstand. He stood and stretched to his full height, his back popping, and pulled on the pair of jeans he had thrown over the back of the chair when he had gone to bed. As he reached for the Read More …