Crossbody Pocketbook Novels & Stories

The day before my period, I found a note on my fiancé's phone. [Her period starts tomorrow. I already packed pads and painkillers in her bag.] I smiled. It was such a small thing, but it felt thoughtful. The next day, a dull ache twisted in my lower stomach. Pale and uncomfortable, I dug through my crossbody bag. Nothing. Dark red blood stained my pants. Students pointed behind me and whispered with awkward laughs. I figured he'd just forgotten at the last minute. Then the new intern teacher posted on social media. [Just started working, and my supervising teacher is literally the sweetest! He even got me pads and painkillers. This period has been pain-free!] The photo showed a pack of pads, an ibuprofen tablet, and a mug of ginger tea. The painkillers were mine—the ones I'd kept stocked at home for years because of my cramps. The pads were the only brand my skin could tolerate. I turned off my phone and stared at the engagement ring on my finger for a long time. Then I stood up and headed to the principal's office to apply for the overseas teacher exchange program. Seven years. He still couldn't remember my cycle. And now, he never would have to.