Another brilliant piece from a GUNNAS WRITING MASTERCLASS WRITER
The whole time I’d been sitting there, I’d been trying my best not to think about the warmth and the wet in my crotch. But as I worked my way through the questions, making sure to be dutifully silent as she answered them, that wetness was the only thing that existed in the world. Like a meditative mantra repeated for infinity.
A thousand wild horses stormed my head. Then, when finally it was over and I stood, I felt it all go. A wet weight that no-one should ever have to feel come out of them. And as the blood and life ran down my legs I thanked her for her time and walked her to the door.
It wasn’t even the fact that I’d just miscarried during an interview. It was the fact that I had started saying ‘thank you’ to a god I swore I’d given up on long ago. It was the fact that somehow I had missed it when hope, that fucking sneaky creep, had slipped back in a side door and begun deconstructing all the work I’d done on building my armour of indifference.