Margo winced as a mosquito stung her in the neck, but she made no sound. She peered out into the blackness.
“Who is it, do you think?” she asked.
Dan squinted, trying to make out any detail that would help them identify their attackers.
“Dunno. Wait here. I’m going to try and outflank them over there by the entrance to the palazzo.”
She grabbed his arm. “Be careful.”
He looked at her with a bemused expression. “Wow. Pregancy’s doing quite a number on you.”
“Maybe if you could keep it in your pants, we wouldn’t be in this position. I used to be so professional. Now, I’m eight weeks pregnant, crouched behind a dumpster in Rome, my wedding gown is ruined, and someone’s trying to kill me.” She smiled, pulled him close, and kissed him. “We’re going to have a baby. Don’t be stupid out there. You take the gun.”
Dan looked like he was searching for words, but she pushed him off. “Move!” she whispered.
Dan crouched and scurried off into the darkness.
She wouldn’t see him again until the baby was two years old.
Margo sat with her back against the dumpster, her gown smeared with garbage.
No gun, she thought. Stupid.
Then it really hit: Jesus Christ, Margo.
She sighed, rose to a crouch, and prepared to run.
Yeah, a baby.
Margo just wants to have her story told. I’m thinking of serializing it in this blog. I realize the piece above doesn’t really qualify as a full-blown story. It’s more of a prologue (if that, even). If your new to the blog, please read “Hermosa Beach Heartache” also. You can read them in any order (I guess). I’m not entirely sure where this story is going yet, so please keep checking in for further installments as occasionally I put them up.
Again, the image is courtesy of Nathan Eckenrode