Maria
CHRISTMAS NIGHT
It's only eight thirty on Christmas night, and all day I haven't been in the mood for presents or holiday cheer. I finally give up and go upstairs to sit by my bedroom window. I don't have the energy or desire to do more than watch the snowflakes fall gently to the ground below. I glance over at the closed door and feel a little guilty for not being downstairs. But I can't imagine Dad is too eager to keep celebrating either. The last time I saw him he was sitting in the kitchen listening to a true crime podcast.
I take a look around at the hot pink walls, the neatly arranged art books, and the plush stuffed animals on my twin bed.
Nothing's changed in my pretty cage, except for me.
Soon, I'll have a little girl of my own. I stare at the latest sonogram pictures a
