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Your dad came into the bathroom with me and sat on the edge of my dorm’s bathtub while I peed on a pregnancy test I hadn’t wanted to buy. We had to wait for three minutes.

“‘Here Comes the Sun’ is three-oh-five,” he said.

So we sang together, quietly in the bathroom, and after the first few bars, I forgot to freak out, I forgot to be worried, I just listened to your dad’s voice and tried to match it with my own.

But when the song ended and we looked at the plus sign on the test, I don’t think either of us felt like the sun had come.

I’m so sorry we didn’t feel differently.

But I want to tell you the truth.