Regina
“I should have bought more tests,” I said out loud to no one in particular. “This could be wrong. It could be a false positive, right?”
Sure, that sounded plausible. Except the internet said my particular brand of home pregnancy test was 99% accurate for a positive result.
F.uck.
I sat on the bathroom floor, in the small space between the bathtub and the sink, and cradled my head in my hands.
This couldn’t be happening. This simply could not be happening. This had to be some kind of serial nightmare. I would wake up any time now to discover that I was in fact still in bed, and I had actually started my period sometime in the night. It was just a fluke and I was late…
I wasn’t pregnant. I couldn’t possibly be pregnant!
But the two lines on the stick-test begged to diff
