When she eats, her belly swells outward. It draws her away from daily life, propping her sideways in the mirror where she lifts her shirt and pushes the obtrusion back into her body. It pops out when she lets go, and she forces it back in, just to reaffirm the possibility. She tells herself that real babies take months to grow, not hours, and she repeats the process, pushing in, popping out, pushing in again. When she is convinced of the bulge’s impermanence, she returns to her day until the protrusion catches her eye. Then she is sideways in the mirror again, with her hands on her belly, telling herself that real babies take longer.