End Game
Having a crampy stomach when I need to go isn’t anything new for me, but right now, I’m having a hard time distinguishing which part of me is actually hurting.
Marissa just left, and I’m doing laundry while talking to Mom on the phone. She’s checking in like she always does, and only mentions the gender reveal party fifty times. I fold the last of my towels and set the stack on top of my coffee table. Luna jumps up and sits on them, knocking the stack over. I purse my lips and look at her, shaking my head.
“So,” I interject the moment there’s a lull in the conversation. “I met Archer’s brother.”