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The second in a series of shorts I had to do for class. |
Liza’s hands shook as she tried to light her Gold Coast Red with her purple Bic lighter. She finally got it lit and inhaled sharply, thanking the waitress who brought her coffee with a puff of smoke. She loaded the inky liquid down with sugar and creamer, changing its color from rich black to creamy brown. She took a sip and closed her eyes. Pregnant. Ten weeks, according to the doctor. That gave her three weeks to decide what she was going to do. Or rather, three weeks to convince Ron that it was the right choice and to give her the four hundred dollars for the abortion. Four hundred dollars, that sure as hell was a lot of money, especially when she was out of work. She looked at the cigarette in her hand and almost laughed. Theoretically, she shouldn’t be smoking in her condition, but since she wasn’t about to keep the being growing inside of her, she didn’t see the sense in quitting now. She thought back on the diagram the nurse had shown her in the clinic. Her baby looked about like a baby chicken right now. Actually, it looked like every other baby animal at that approximate stage. It helped her conscious to know that if put in a lineup, she wouldn’t be able to tell her baby from one of another species. Liza shook her head. She didn’t like the idea of “her baby,” she wanted to find a more removed term. What was it the nurse called it? The embryo, that’s right. Liza took another drag off her cigarette and another sip of coffee as she contemplated the future of her embryo and herself. |