The woman rests her hand on her abdomen as tears burn her eyes.
“I don’t have it.” Drew gave an obnoxious big brother grin, as his sister punched him futilely.
He lifted his head from the keyboard but could only see as far as the monitor illuminated.
“Well, I want to go home. I feel fine. If I am still dying, I’m strong enough to go home. I don’t want to die here. I want to die at home.”
Simple black pantsuit, white blouse, top button only open, pearl necklace, sensible heels, mid-size black leather satchel. Resume in manilla folder, with copies of awards and additional certifications. Arrive 15 minutes early.
The perfect Mommy twins sneered in disgust. “The children of this community will be raised to standards. They will be breastfed, they will be vaccinated, they will learn to read before pre-K, and they will participate in sports where everyone wins because we don’t raise losers. They will not defile their bodies with tattoos or dermal piercings or install gages or gauges in their ears or whatever your sick alterna-minds invent.” As she pontificated, the second Mommy was feverishly flipping pages of the Mommy Manifesto.