Write about: the last resort.
Class number three in our prenatal series went tonight. It was a bit of a heavy class, focused on all of the various medical interventions we could possibly end up using, from IVs to epidurals. We're hoping that few, if any, of them will be needed, but I'm feeling much more informed about our choices if it does come to that.
One more to go on Wednesday night, which should be a much lighter class - in that one we finish off by talking about babies and what in the world we're meant to do with them in the first two weeks after we bring 'em home.
Because after that they start taking care of themselves, right?
The red button on the control panel waited patiently as the uniformed man paced back and forth in the cramped office. It watched as forgotten papers were trampled, kicked into corners and under chairs.
It held its breath every time the man came to stillness and stared at it. The doubt and confusion in his eyes seemed to grow less every time he did so. It was only a matter of time.
The button increased its glow ever so slightly at each pause, as though it could pull the man's finger to its surface if only it shined brightly enough.
The man resumed his traverse of the room once more. But with greater reluctance this time, the button was sure of it. It watched as he placed his hands on the window sill and stared outside at the gathering darkness. Shoulders slumped, chin fell to chest.
Yes, it was truly just a matter of time now.