Wearing Black

I am not pregnant. Again.

My hopes were so high this time. A birthday present for me. A new life. A new song. Another chance.

Here I am wearing black. Again. Just in case, my mom advised me when I was 13. Those five days of wearing black every month. Black pants, black skirts, black dresses. You look so pretty in black, so elegant, so New York.

You New Yorkers always wear black. What, are you in mourning?

Yes. I am. Every time my period comes again I mourn the girl that died, and the death of the hope of the new children that aren't coming.

I want at least nine months of wearing white.