I had had one fleeting moment of wavering conviction, merely an act of habit. And as much as I would have love to have felt the guilt, I didn't. There was a blankness, a blindness in my maternal extinct because this was not a life, it was a death. The feeling of not feeling was a comfort.
My skin feels foreign to me again. If I could uncloak myself from the suit I wear, I would. I would step outside of this tainted body that has betrayed me.