Red is the river between us

Photo by insung yoon on Unsplash

It was nothing. Just a gray clump amongst the drenched, bright burgundy of blood and the stark white of the toilet paper in my hands.

“Is that it? Is that the baby?” Peter* asks, standing in the doorway of the bathroom, his hands resting against the sides as though to block me in. I pull my knees together, the toilet seat hard and warm against the back of my legs. The yellow glare of the overhead light only seems…