Loss

On a Tuesday morning in a tenth-grade math class, Sally smiled and held her paper up to her friend Jenny. Jenny gave her a thumbs up, pleased that she'd helped her friend overcome fear of math.    
     
As the two of them shared this moment of elation, one of their classmates entered the room. The scrap of desks on the floor and screams filled the air, but Sally didn’t hear. She sat transfixed by the instrument of war pointed at her chest. She thought the boy was a friend, but today, she didn’t know his face.    
     
Sally said, “Please wait.” She didn't recognize her voice. She sounded older than she was.    
     
The boy stood still and quiet for a moment.    
     
Her mind spun. Visions of what she was losing passed in front of her. What affections would she never know? What of life would she never taste?    
     
Sally thought of her boyfriend’s kiss the weekend before and felt sorry for pulling his hand away from her breast. Oh, how she wished for his embrace now!    
     
Sally pictured her mother falling to her knees within the next hour when authorities confirmed the identity of her daughter.    
     
Still staring at the dark muzzle, she realized she’d covered herself with her hands. She felt small like a child needing to pee but embarrassed to ask. Would her fragile hands shield her womb and all that she treasured in life?  
     
The boy stared at her hands. He said evenly, "I've always thought you were beautiful." Tears formed in the corners of Sally's eyes and she tried to speak but no words came.  
 
In the instant of the muzzle’s flash, Sally saw the face of a child she did not recognize. From where Jenny sat, she saw another child’s face moments later. These were the faces of children neither of them would conceive.