Flash Fiction: Cell

Christening invitations had already been sent before their baby died. Eggshell blue, heavy linen cards scalloped with silver she’d designed while life was growing inside her. A cell that had split and split again, creating skin, eyes and bone. A cell that had split into two.

The christening could still go ahead, the vicar said gently - if she felt able to cope. The  funeral for his twin was arranged the same day.

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