Positive signs. Something so simple, something I never thought would be a life-changing object. In second grade, one was placed in between two 2's, asking you to determine the answer. In seventh grade, one was placed in front of a number to determine whether it was positive or negative. And now, as I sit on the floor of a tiny stall in the Wal*Mart bathroom, one is determining the rest of my life. I'm afraid to tell anyone. I'm afraid of what random stragers will think when they see a fifteen-year-old walking around with a huge belly. But mostly, I'm afraid to tell you.
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I like the surprise ending. Short and to the point for us people with a short attention span
Wow.
Please be considerate and constructive with your comments. Anonymity is not a blanket in which you can hide under to spook and scare other writers like a malicious five-year-old. It's more like a safety blanket, as far as ill-conceived metaphors go.