Day was dying. At least it felt that way to her. She had woken up that morning to carry on decorating the house – she had already done her room, the kitchen, main living room and dining room and was moving on to the smaller, fancier living room – but her plans were thwarted by the start of her bleeding. She was glad it only happened every four months because it was hell! She asked Steph once if it was the same for her to which her friend replied it was not. Day had to wonder if Steph was lying, toughing it through, had a higher pain tolerance or was simply telling the truth.
Curled up on the new living room couch with the AC on full blast so she could have heat packs on her stomach and lower back, Day let her eyes close in the hopes of catching a little bit of sleep. The cramps would wak
