As If Of Wings
The woman held a jealous hand over her protruding belly and eyed the receptionist with mean green eyes.
“What d’you mean he’s in a meeting? Our ‘pointment’s supposed to be now!”
The receptionist’s smile cracked but held. “Um, ma’am, he should be done shortly. Please have a seat and I will let you know when the doctor’s ready.”
The woman cast her eyes meaningfully towards the clock behind the receptionist’s head, then slunk back towards her seat, muttering unintelligible curses under her breath.
I eyed her with a mixture of revulsion and pity. Placing a hand on my own flat belly, I wondered for the umpteenth time whether I was really pregnant. 10 ept tests assured me I was, but it still hadn’t sunk in yet.
Suddenly, I felt what I could only describe as a flourish in the pit of my stomach. A stirring, as if of wings. The rude lady locked eyes with me and I cried, “I think I just felt the baby!”
“Man, you ain’t felt nothing yet,” was her terse rejoinder before sticking her face firmly into a magazine.