shirts.
It still smelled like cut lumber.
I sent the money on time.
I’m not proud of that.
Grief makes you obedient before it makes you anything else.
Two weeks later, I fainted at work.
My friend Dena marched me to the drugstore.
In a fluorescent bathroom, two pink lines appeared.
Night shifts had wrecked my cycles for years.
I had assumed stress explained the rest.
The ultrasound said sixteen weeks.
I did the math alone in a dark room with cold gel on my stomach.
Five months from becoming
