April Showers

"When will you have one of your own?" she asks me. We're gathered around the pastel-covered table in the conference room, the third shower this year. Several pairs of expectant eyes look my way - I'm one of the few singles left over the age of twenty-five, and I'm the only one in the room unwed and unbred.

"Not really planning on it," I mumble. I'm here because there will be talk if I _don't_ waste my lunch hour on empty enthusiasm and stale cake, 'oooh'ing over pink or blue or yellow onesies and bibs.

"Oh, you'll change your mind," someone else says in a superior tone. I grit my teeth.

"I don't think so," I disagree dully, looking down at my slice of too-pink frosting.

"Sure you will."

No, I _won't_. I'm saving my money to travel the world, and when I get back, saving it again to re-visit the parts I like best. Never settle. But they don't understand that. They can't see a woman as Complete until she's had a child or three, and I am _clearly_ Incomplete to them. Sometimes, we're our own worst enemy.