From a turnout, Loretta watched the ocean. Water, water, everywhere. Even when her sight detected no movement, she knew they had tides, oceans did, not to mention currents. They had a circularity of motions. Just like her blood, how it left the heart one way and came back another. Her womb might be empty, the incision stapled shut behind her stillborn child, but that didn’t mean squat.
Phantom motions still curled inside her.
How rollers below hit the shore in roaring white foam was a mystery – might be rocks or divine sand. Footing was precarious but she leaned out, nonetheless
