February 22nd 2016

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I've kinda alluded to this before, but after last night's 'conversation' I think we need to explore it more. Things to know- the Tube is the London underground (the subway system in London). Daft means stupid. I think that's everything. Chapter photo is of the Roksanda dress Sophie bought. Sarah xx

~*~*~

"Are you home?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Because you and I need to have a chat."

"A chat I have to be home to have?"

"Yes, I don't want you shouting at me while you're in public."

"Ok, that doesn't sound promising. Why would I be shouting at you?"

"Because it's personal and you might not like it. Considering how you snapped at me last night, I'm expecting you to throw a fit."

"I'm listening."

"What is it with you and baby talk?"

"Baby talk? Like, I speak like a baby? Coochie coo?"

"No, Sophie. A few times now, when I've mentioned children- or more specifically- you having children, you react weirdly. I want to know why. I mean, if as simple as the fact that you hate kids-"

"I don't hate kinds."

"Ok, so you like children. But you don't want them?"

"..."

"Ha, see! You're silent again."

"What do you want me to say?"

"I don't know. An explanation about why you react the way you do would be nice."

"I want children."

"But you said-"

"I want children. I won't be a good mother, though. I'll probably leave them on the Tube, going round and round on the Central line."

"You won't. Is this because you're single?"

"Not, this isn't because I'm single. Don't be daft."

"Well, isn't you biological clock ticking?"

"I'm twenty-nine, Daniel, not seventy-nine."

"Then, what's the reason?"

"..."

"Sophie-"

"I can't have children."

"Excuse me?"

"I found out a few years ago that I can't have children. Well, I can, but the chances are slim. I was pregnant once and... the embryo formed in my fallopian tube, not in the uterus. They call it an ectopic pregnancy. The fallopian tube ruptured. I collapsed and was rushed to hospital. When I woke up, I was told that my chances of conceiving was only fifty per cent. So, yes, I get a little touchy when someone mentions me having children."

"..."

"You can hang up now. You won't be the first to not know what to say to me."

"I'm not hanging up. Fifty per cent isn't bad odds, you know. Some women have a zero per cent chance."

"Oh, you're one of those people."

"Those people?"

"An optimist. Glass half full."

"So, just because you only have a fifty per cent chance, you've given up?"

"I'd rather not try and be disappointed when it doesn't happen for me. I think I'm more of a cool aunt kind of person, if I'm honest."

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