Every Saturday morning, I think of the girls and women getting abortions at the local Planned Parenthood.
On Sunday, I remember my mother’s final request, knowing I still haven’t, and never will fulfill it.
Monday leaves me with the all the jobs I should have said yes to.
Tuesday brings an expiration date I can’t return.
On Wednesday, I buy more makeup, reminding myself that scars never fully go away.
Thursday deletes the voicemail of sounds I’ll never hear again.
And on Friday, I drive past the places I know, but will never go.