“Hey, Sarah. Did you know—right now—your uterus is the size of a grapefruit?” I burst into tears. “Nice job.” Max ate his spaghetti but passed me the box of tissues. I grabbed one, but the last tissue pulled out too. I couldn’t reach it before it floated to the floor. Wasting that tissue was the worst thing that had ever happened to me. The tears kept coming. “Whoa.” Reed stuck a knife in his book to mark his place. “Chapter four warned about the mood swings. Probably should have been in chapter one.” He picked up the tissue and knelt beside my chair. The kitchen table was stocked with every variety of fruit, vegetable, ice cream, and pasta dish, but between the incessant crying and nausea, nothing set right with me except that box of tissues, and now they were gone, and I was pretty sure I went insane sometime in the last week.
