#proclaimed

I have a story of life. It was in the distant 90s. I was a child at the time, there were no phones, there was nothing, we lived in the north in a small watchdog town. The whole family invited us to the wedding. Everyone whispered that the wedding was over. At that time I didn’t know what flight was. The wedding was done, all good. My wife’s stomach is growing. At each meeting, traditional female conversations, such as well-being, whether there is toxicity, whether it is pushed, when to give birth, etc. Someone of my acquaintances told me that it all seemed to have been taken to the birthplace. And my mom’s stuff had some shortage, or what. But she decided to quickly run to the nursery, leave the transmission and find out who was born (the uzi was not yet there). At home, they said that was not the case. Mom is in panic. I loved Mexican series. Stolen, replaced, and secretly separated children were her greatest fear. I wanted to check. A girl’s name and a new one. There are no phones, no contact with anyone. We rush through the city in search of acquaintances who know something. After all, there the birthdaughter was killed, buried and hidden, and the child was probably sold. It turned out to be very interesting in the end. There was no pregnancy. How the baby depicted the stomach, living with her husband, is still a mystery. But he had no doubts, until before the very birth, she did not confess to him. Their family life quickly ended. Since then, I have believed that there are no fucking ones.