Produced in Pairs

"Are you sure it's not best to tell the father?" The doctor asked, repeating the question he had asked several times through this session. "He may find what you are doing as morally wrong."

"I'm sure. He wouldn't have to live with the full consequences of this - but I definately will. I'd have to raise the child on my own." I replied smoothly, leaning back in my chair.

"He may want to raise the child." The doctor stated, like he was challenging my resolution.

"But he can't, not at the age the we are. We'd have to drop out of college and have no chance of ever going to university as one of us would have to look after the unfortunate soul and the other would have to pay for it's upbringing."

The doctor just sat in silence for a moment, knowing he couldn't change my mind. He turned slowly to his notes then to a calendar shining on the computer.

"We can do this for you on Monday." He said simply, typing rapidly onto the calendar. He gave me a sharp sidewards glance and I took that as my que to leave, taking the appointment slip from the printer.

"Thanks." I said, turning the door handle and exiting the room. "See ya."

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I walked out the doctors on Monday afternoon feeling lighter than when I went in - not physically, mentally.

It's probably the reason I didn't look before I crossed the road. It's probably the reason I didn't turn to look when that pedestrian shouted 'Wait!' in earnest and goodness of his heart. It's probably the reason the many ton truck honked his horn too late as his wheel plowed into my left side, crushing my arm, spine and neck instantly and painlessly.

Or Was It?