Before He Wakes
“Are you . . . I mean, are you sure you’re okay?”
At first she didn’t know what he was talking about, but his gaze kept casting down her body then away. She looked down at herself and realized he’d noticed that the crotch of her jeans was blotched by a dark stain. The embarrassment she’d felt at the belch was nothing compared to the crippling shame that almost drove her back to her knees.
“I’m fine,” she said, her voice too sharp, as if she were angry. Embarrassment often came out as anger, she mused. “It’s just . . . well, since I’ve been here I haven’t exactly had access to, you know, sanitary napkins.”
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