“I’m getting an abortion.”
Pat was mute, but she could feel his body tremble.
“Is there some option you perceive?”
He finally beat silence in cautious forced fashion.
“The obvious one.”
“Having it.”
“Yes, having it.”
Rain pummeled the log cabin—ton upon tempestuous ton.
It glazed the windows many times over only to pound them again with new glaze.
“No. I don’t. I don’t see it as an option.”
“Why not?”
“It’s not just you, or me, or us. Though I don’t believe we’re ready to take that step. It’s more…”
That rain, it screeched suspires of sorrow, pulverizing partly the transmogrified smoke screen.
“What then?”
“I’m just not concerned to have any kid. There’s a way in which I perceive it as a form of self-indulgence. I mean,
I don’t think of life as being all that grand a proposition,
I suppose.”
“What about Holly?”
“What about Holly!?”
She could hint annoyance in his tone, and suddenly she purely detested his very being!
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