Lisa leaned against the old white washer feeling it spin and watching the hose retch the dirty rinse water into the slop sink. She absently watched the suds coalesce into a schematic of the female reproductive system. The wavy fingers of the Fallopian tubes hovered over the ovaries, waiting to take the lucky egg for the swerving ride down to the plush uterus.
One week late and she prayed that her own body itself was about to swirl. She would feel the same relief as now watching the drain suck and pull this used water down and away.