My Body Is a Destroyer

One night, after too much pink wine and cheap whiskey, my husband asks if I want to start a family. I do. Together we pop what remains of my birth control pills into the garbage. One by one by one. Pop, pop, pop. Early the next morning, just before dawn, the earth tremors here, here, and here, unlike anything anyone has ever seen. And, later, I dig the pills out of the trash, swallowing them all, one by one by one. We measure my basal temperature, figure out when I ovulate, fuck furiously. We do it doggy style, because...

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