“I stepped out of the bathroom, walked over to my mom, and placed a hand on her shoulder. ‘Mom, I have something to tell you.’ I paused, letting the world slow down for one last moment. ‘I’m hemorrhaging.’
“She didn’t burst into tears, faint, or tear at her hair. She snorted. I was aghast. How could my mother respond so casually to the news of my mortality? When she stopped laughing, she turned to me and said, without preamble: ‘It’s your period.’”
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