by Tess Osborne<\/b><\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
I was sitting on the tile floor sweating<\/strong><\/p>\n cutting my headshot out of the new Vogue when I get the call<\/strong><\/p>\n squealing, I sprint out the door to streets packed like sardines <\/strong><\/p>\n of course you\u2019d come during rush hour<\/strong><\/p>\n <\/p>\n I hail the last taxi just as it starts to rain but as it opens a <\/strong><\/p>\n gray suit slips in like an eel and slams it in my face\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n <\/p>\n I waste a moment to spit on his window and then curse<\/strong><\/p>\n somersaulting down the subway stairs I stuff myself <\/strong><\/p>\n into the E train just as the doors close onto <\/strong><\/p>\n the back of my new jacket\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n <\/p>\n the air condition\u2019s broken so we\u2019re all sweating slugs stealing <\/strong><\/p>\n each other\u2019s oxygen<\/strong><\/p>\n stuck between 23rd and 14th due to a signal problem\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n tapping our feet in time with the crucial seconds we are losing\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n <\/p>\n the gray lights shut off and we all intake a breath\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n a collective prayer\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n like when watching a plate rattle on the edge of a table<\/strong><\/p>\n until the mother-to-be whose swollen belly I\u2019m pressed against <\/strong><\/p>\n sighs and we collectively relax and the train jerks into motion\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n <\/p>\n I start mouthing all the vows I\u2019ve been writing for weeks so <\/strong><\/p>\n when you arrive you\u2019ll know how much I care<\/strong><\/p>\n when the neighboring fetus kicks\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n — — .-. — -. against my fluttering heart<\/strong><\/p>\n <\/p>\n the doors open and the crowd bursts<\/strong> like a broken dam but <\/strong><\/p>\n suddenly I\u2019m floundering, unwilling to step out <\/strong><\/p>\n the mother rolls her eyes, says get out of my way,<\/em>\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n and pushes me into the stream<\/strong><\/p>\n past the dripping platform through the muted corridor up the <\/strong><\/p>\n dark stairwell and quick as a slick fish\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n I slip straight into the screeching streets so bright I have to <\/strong><\/p>\n look away<\/strong><\/p>\n and start squintedly sprinting\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n thinking about my headshot my bad luck my dirtied jacket<\/strong><\/p>\n how I\u2019m drenched in acidic rain when I reach the revolving door\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n <\/p>\n in the elevator I realize I\u2019ve forgotten all my vows<\/strong><\/p>\n at the door I freeze\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n my mind ringing with white noise\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n through the wall I hear her sweating mother wail\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n a sick voice sings how I am an unglamorous shell <\/strong><\/p>\n unable to raise such a beautiful creature. <\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n But it\u2019s no longer about me,<\/em><\/strong> I think<\/strong><\/p>\n