I saw it happen before it happened. I saw it in slow motion. I looked into the future and saw your foot tuck under and your sweet little head make contact with the table, and still, I was one step too late.

I scoop you into my arms and fixate on the swelling just above the bridge of your nose. I hold you in front of me assessing and cataloguing. Memorizing the location and size of the welp transforming into a lump right before my eyes.

Blood pounds in my ears and my inner voice murmurs in ...