March 5: MTB

I'm awake at night, hungry. The trains at the nearby station are sleeping though. I can hear them, hear their soft lion-purring, their occasional snoring, a low growl as their engines seem to grind into life, then fall still again. I swivel onto my back, place my hands on my stomach. Bump's awake too. He kicks, then moves so ripples skate along my inside like fingers up a piano. 'How can you be the cause of so much trouble,' I think, rubbing my taught skin. 'How can you, beautiful little you, not even born, be hated so? How can the world not love you like I already do?'