That Time It Wasn't The Flu

It was the second day of NaNoWriMo, and I had the flu. I was also late, but every other month that doesn’t seem to matter much. One of my ovaries is shy. Or lazy. Anyway. I watched the flu episode of The Golden Girls and then sat down to write. And sneeze. Neil was at the gym and I was doing laps to the toilet to pee, between sneezes. I didn’t write much that day. But I counted. Six times. I was wearing three layers. And I still had goosebumps. When Neil got home, I was on the couch breathing from the one nostril I had left. He raised one of his really perfect eyebrows. ‘Whut?’ ‘Have you got your period yet?’ There are no secrets in our relationship. ‘Doe.’ The other eyebrow went up. ‘I’m dot.’ We’d had the same conversation for the past few months. Later, Neil left to go see some friends, and I hadn’t left the couch. Except to pee. On the way back from trip 11, I counted again. On my calendar. Both of my eyebrows went up. The next morning, I was as late as late ever was. And awake in the dark. So was Neil. ‘Should I pee on a stick?’ ‘I think so.’ There was a test burning a hole in my wicker drawers. ‘What if I’m not?’ ‘What if you...

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