Ma'am

1.       

5pm. Sunday.

I tried to sleep myself into a coma that day. Woke up at 8am. Spent 3 ½ minutes watching the ceiling fan.

Spinning. Spinning. Spinning. Dark.

Woke up at 12pm. Spent 7 minutes looking at the train schedule. Tried to see what train would get me there late. Woke up at 2pm. Mad as hell it wasn’t 4pm. Woke up at 3pm.

Fuck it.

Spent a total of 4 minutes on my outfit. A black dress—I was mourning. Screeching metal was all I could hear. I allowed the train to take me to you. Almost threw up four times. Each time, nothing. I really was empty. Got off the train at 4:30pm. Fuck. I walked slowly to your apartment.

4:35pm. Turned around and went to a nearby café. There was an older woman who shared a bench with me. She stared at me. I turned away, afraid that she could see I lost it. That she could see I couldn’t even stay pregnant.

I was afraid that she could see that I was about to tell the man I wasn’t in a relationship with that I was pregnant—well not anymore. I walked back to your apartment. 4:45pm. I let you know I will be there soon. 4:46pm. I looked through my phone. Listened to 3 songs. 4:56pm.

I rang the intercom and the building door buzzed open.

5th floor. 5pm. I walked into the room and sat down. You focused on me. Here it was, my moment.

I had a—

I always tell this story out of order. I’m not in order.