He couldn't keep his gaze off of my baby bump, eyes glazing over our conversation. Instead, he tried to imagine what it would be like to be pregnant. He couldn't.
His wife called me, concerned. I saw him in the bathroom mirror smiling, turning side-to-side patting and admiring a down pillow up his shirt.
What a vision! 5 o'clock shadow, receding hairline, light blue boxers and a bulging belly–his hairy hands patting it oh-so-gently.
I did what any friend would do–cracked my body open like a geode, inserted the crystalline core inside of him. His body became an egg, hardened shell protecting the golden yoke.
When he gave birth, I wondered how, saw a brief flutter in the baby's mouth. Reaching between pink gums, I pulled out a dying ladybug–hard candy shell wings, wet now, unable to close over its soft black body.