this writing contains mentions of character death
When baby Lorenzo was born, he was about as heavy as a toddler and wailed like a drunk.
Cute, though. With soft brown skin and thick little hands. Strong hands, his papa said; the kind that were gentle, but firm.
He had soft dark eyes masked by the longest lashes you’d ever seen… no hair, except one dark, little curl on his forehead… the chubbiest cheeks and the tiniest feet…
It was easy to forget that his namesake wasn’t with them anymore.
For a little while at least.