By Lacie Semenovich
Megan touched her stomach. Nothing felt real anymore. She couldn’t feel the baby, but she knew it was there.
She held David’s hand. “I don’t know what to do.”
He didn’t respond.
The doctor said she had eight weeks. She didn’t need to decide now.
What was living anyway, she wondered. To exist independently? Who really existed independently? She certainly couldn’t. She’d always depended on her parents, her friends, David.
She wasn’t qualified to decide when life is no longer viable. Tears blurred the image of David lying in the hospital bed.
The respirator pumped another breath into his lungs.
Lacie Semenovich is the author of a chapbook, Legacies (Finishing Line Press). Her poetry and fiction has appeared or is forthcoming in Jet Fuel Review, The Ghazal Page, Flash Fiction Magazine, Leveler, Muddy River Poetry Review, and other journals.