She looked at the pink bundle in my arms, then back at me. The woman’s eyes narrowed. “We are not a depository for unwanted children.”
I lifted an eyebrow, the implication clear. “This isn’t my child.”
“A likely story.”
I cursed under my breath, which she didn’t take well. She started closing the wooden door, but I shoved my foot into the gap. This one would need some convincing.
Of course, if you enjoy my excerpt, feel free to check out any of my other published short stories over at AstonWest.com (click on my "Shorts"...hee hee).