I stared at the pregnancy test until the two lines blurred together, because my mind kept insisting that I was looking at something that couldn't possibly have anything to do with me.
I picked it up again, turned it over and checked the box even though I already knew what it was. Positive.
The lines seemed to grow heavier every time I looked at it.
My hand moved automatically toward my stomach, and I immediately pulled it away because the gesture felt too intimate for something I wasn't even sure belonged to me.
Someone could have left it here. Someone could have used this bathroom before me. Someone could have taken another test and forgotten it.
There were plenty of women at the clubhouse and lately there had been enough chaos that nobody paid attention to who used which bathroom.
