Lind felt an overwhelming sensation of calm as the plane reached 30,000 feet. She wasn’t going to try anymore. Her body had been poked, prodded, invaded, over-stimulated, injected, and implanted. She was exhausted. Her infertility had ruined her marriage.
Her mother had wailed, lamenting her lack of grandchildren. Lind absolved herself of any guilt. She wasn’t responsible for continuing her family’s name. Her body wasn’t depreciating in value. It wasn’t a time-bomb waiting to implode. She was just coming into her own. She took a long sip of champagne and stared at the infinite blue sky. The sun was coming up.