Delicate Condition

by Danielle Valentine

I think we all believe, somewhere deep in our bones, that darkness is fickle and easily placated with small gifts.

I thought the flaws added interest to his features, setting him apart from a sea of generic Manhattan businessmen and LA actors.

“Like, what if they all hatch and they’re really spiders?”

Sometimes being alive hurt like hell.

I wanted to peel back the skin on my stomach and see what was going on inside of me.

The thing that really sucked about hope was how good it felt, like a cold drink of water on a hot day. After it was gone, everything was hard and sharp and cold.

Frances had always said she did not believe in haunted houses, but here she could almost think she’d stepped beyond the veil and into the other world.

That’s all she was, just meat wrapped in skin and fur. It was so strange to think about.

I’d read somewhere that when pregnant women didn’t get enough calories, their bodies automatically fed the baby first, leaving the mother to starve. If that wasn’t the perfect metaphor for pregnancy, I didn’t know what was.

The truth was obvious, once I had the courage to face it.