I lay back on the exam room table the paper crinkled under me. The air hit me, and so did reality.

Why did we have to have sex that night?

I recheck my phone nothing no questions phone call.

The nurse comes in and asks a series of burning questions before the procedure.

“I'm sure I don't have second thoughts.”

Tears stain my white blouse.

The walk home is silent; the sun has just set. My leg vibrates, and it's him he's too late. I ignore it and continue my pity party. I have to many drinks in my to think straight.

I always take the short cut through the alley home. Rush is always smoking a cigarette there anyway on his break. I get to my turn and start down the vacant dark tunnel. Rush isn't there tonight.

I think I hear someone, but there is too much chatter up in my head to distinguish trash from footsteps. I reach my place and reach for the ladder.

From behind something slides over my mouth and nose, a pungent odor evades my nasal cavity. I barely put up a fight I'm too drunk. I can feel part of the sharp object inserted into my heart.

And then everything fades black.

Please leave a message after the tone.

“ I love you. I'm sorry for what I said about the baby; please call me–—I hope I'm not too late.”