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Description
     “I’m pregnant,” Naomi whispers in awe.  She stares at the blue line on the small device in her hand.  “Blue line means pregnant, right?  Where did I put the box with the instructions,” Naomi thinks to herself as she searches the large bathroom.  She regrets turning on the lights.  The bare bulbs over the vanity grate on her weary eyes.  The bathroom is cold and sterile.  The light of early morning drifts through the small bottles on the sink.  These assorted hotel soaps and shampoos promise her soft skin, or a lavender scent, or shiny, irresistible hair.  Her hair is long and black and wrapped like a veil around her face.  The sun’s rays bounce off it and give the shape of a gleaming halo.  She is unaware.  Naomi is preoccupied with a longing; a longing to know what she already knows is true in a way that science cannot explain.
     Naomi glances into the bedroom.  “At least he didn’t skimp on accommodations this time,” she thinks to herself with a grin.  Paul had reserved the Presidential Suite.  It was quite a step out of character for “Poor Paul.”  Naomi’s smile quickly broke like a wave upon the coast of her reason.  “He must not think he’s coming back,” she said in shock.  She began to chastise herself for her naiveté.  “Of course Paul chose this room,” she raged to herself, “it could be the last night he ever spends in a real bed, in a real room.”  “It could be the last night he ever spends with me,” she uttered aloud and then regretted when she heard it echo off the bathroom walls.
     She nervously leans forward again to check on Paul.  He is still sleeping soundly, though he has since rolled over when the rising sun came streaming through the open curtains and onto his face.  Before the thought of Paul’s departure could even sink in, she quickly brushed it aside.  “Baby, I don’t want you to worry now, okay?” he had said yesterday.  The double surprise he had called to prepare Naomi for consisted of this fancy hotel room and orders to ship out the following night.  He had told her over pasta at an expensive French restaurant, the name of which neither could pronounce.  She had known something was amiss the minute they had pulled up to it in their old station wagon, the one car they owned.  “That poor wagon has seen better days,” she thought as she recalled their sorry excuse for transportation   “Can we even afford this?” Naomi had pondered as the valet had tried once, twice, and finally figured out how to open her door.  Her fears had subsided, though, when she had seen the pride in Paul’s face, and remembered he had important news to share.  As she looked around for the small box, the room itself began to disgust her.  The luxurious bathtub and the king size bed were amenities neither had had as children, and now might never have a chance to share again.  She hated the room for its cruel reminders of her real life.
     Naomi found the box in the trash can.  She picked it up, and rose to read it like a prison sentence.  The truth Naomi had known all along was confirmed.  A million scenarios bubbled up in her brain and threatened to overwhelm her.  “I can’t think about this right now” Naomi thought as she quelled the rush of tears.  She strode across the cold tile, onto the soft carpet, and then slid between the cool sheets.  She wiggled in close beside Paul’s warm body and then wrapped her arms around him in embrace.  Naomi leaned in close to whisper in his ear, but then stopped.  She lacked the words.  Naomi tried to think of a way to tell him, but then wondered if she even should tell him. Eventually her weary eyes succumbed to the soft sheets, and the gentle embrace of Paul’s arms around her. For now he was here, and she was happy

Description
     “I’m pregnant,” Naomi whispers in awe.  She stares at the blue line on the small device in her hand.  “Blue line means pregnant, right?  Where did I put the box with the instructions,” Naomi thinks to herself as she searches the large bathroom.  She regrets turning on the lights.  The bare bulbs over the vanity grate on her weary eyes.  The bathroom is cold and sterile.  The light of early morning drifts through the small bottles on the sink.  These assorted hotel soaps and shampoos promise her soft skin, or a lavender scent, or shiny, irresistible hair.  Her hair is long and black and wrapped like a veil around her face.  The sun’s rays bounce off it and give the shape of a gleaming halo.  She is unaware.  Naomi is preoccupied with a longing; a longing to know what she already knows is true in a way that science cannot explain.
     Naomi glances into the bedroom.  “At least he didn’t skimp on accommodations this time,” she thinks to herself with a grin.  Paul had reserved the Presidential Suite.  It was quite a step out of character for “Poor Paul.”  Naomi’s smile quickly broke like a wave upon the coast of her reason.  “He must not think he’s coming back,” she said in shock.  She began to chastise herself for her naiveté.  “Of course Paul chose this room,” she raged to herself, “it could be the last night he ever spends in a real bed, in a real room.”  “It could be the last night he ever spends with me,” she uttered aloud and then regretted when she heard it echo off the bathroom walls.
     She nervously leans forward again to check on Paul.  He is still sleeping soundly, though he has since rolled over when the rising sun came streaming through the open curtains and onto his face.  Before the thought of Paul’s departure could even sink in, she quickly brushed it aside.  “Baby, I don’t want you to worry now, okay?” he had said yesterday.  The double surprise he had called to prepare Naomi for consisted of this fancy hotel room and orders to ship out the following night.  He had told her over pasta at an expensive French restaurant, the name of which neither could pronounce.  She had known something was amiss the minute they had pulled up to it in their old station wagon, the one car they owned.  “That poor wagon has seen better days,” she thought as she recalled their sorry excuse for transportation   “Can we even afford this?” Naomi had pondered as the valet had tried once, twice, and finally figured out how to open her door.  Her fears had subsided, though, when she had seen the pride in Paul’s face, and remembered he had important news to share.  As she looked around for the small box, the room itself began to disgust her.  The luxurious bathtub and the king size bed were amenities neither had had as children, and now might never have a chance to share again.  She hated the room for its cruel reminders of her real life.
     Naomi found the box in the trash can.  She picked it up, and rose to read it like a prison sentence.  The truth Naomi had known all along was confirmed.  A million scenarios bubbled up in her brain and threatened to overwhelm her.  “I can’t think about this right now” Naomi thought as she quelled the rush of tears.  She strode across the cold tile, onto the soft carpet, and then slid between the cool sheets.  She wiggled in close beside Paul’s warm body and then wrapped her arms around him in embrace.  Naomi leaned in close to whisper in his ear, but then stopped.  She lacked the words.  Naomi tried to think of a way to tell him, but then wondered if she even should tell him. Eventually her weary eyes succumbed to the soft sheets, and the gentle embrace of Paul’s arms around her. For now he was here, and she was happy