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Tuesday, August 23, 2005


I rode the elevator with her - up five flights, or was it four? She was dark and beautiful.

We went through the same door, signed in at the same desk. I looked enviously at her expensive sunglasses. Her belly was swollen, peeking out from above her pants, and I was jealous of her, jealous of the new life she was about to begin.

She told the nurse her birthday. It was 12 years after mine. Was she married? "Single," she muttered, looking down at her perfect feet. She was silent and embarrassed. She was scared.


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