No nonsense, she said sobbing. What on hell you want of me,
her voice grew louder.
The man beside her seemed to be contemplating like a sage
during meditation.
Are you listening, she yelled. You don't think how important
it is for me to be myself. I can't be your Victorian stuff looking after your
sperm growing in me. My individual existence is more important, you see!
The sound of beetles from outside was apparently audible.
But the man did not seem to listen neither to the voice from outside nor the
one that was demanding his permission.
I was
the one who had been a witness to their debate and was growing numb every other
second. I thought about the man, the woman and the other life. Was I being
empathetic? I don't know; but I felt that I was crying. I don't know who I
cried for.
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