“Did you know that one of your tits is bigger than the other?”
Marnie is sitting across from me, and her voice carries. A few of my colleagues at the long table turn to look.
I glance down at my chest, at the huge, unfamiliar breasts bursting out of a second-hand maternity top. From here, they look the same: two swollen, veiny udders.
I shrug, hoping I look unbothered.
“She likes the left more,” I say.
“Well, it’s the right one that’s bigger.” Marnie gestures, glass in hand.
“Maybe that’s why she likes the other side more? Easier to latch?”
Marnie takes a gulp from her red. “See, this is why I don’t like going out with new parents. It’s all baby talk.”
I want to scream at Marnie that she started this conversation. That I’d pumped extra hard just so I could come to the end-of-quarter dinner, my first evening out in two months. That I’m here because I’m desperate to know about sales targets and quarterly earnings. Anything to feel connected.
I open my mouth to reply, but a baby on the other side of the restaurant lets out a whimper, and there’s pressure in my chest as my milk lets down. I know the eco-friendly washable pads stuffed down my bra will only hold so much.
“Back in a mo,” I grab my bag. “Loo.”
Locked in a piss-smelling stall, I glare down at my swollen breasts, milking myself with a small hand-squeeze pump. I force a little extra from the right side, pointing the plastic pistol at myself and pull the trigger over and over.
I hope the baby won’t mind that the milk is a little salty from the tears splashing down onto my uneven tits.
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Emma Burnett is a researcher and writer. She has had stories in MetaStellar, Elegant Literature, The Stygian Lepus, Roi Fainéant, The Sunlight Press, Fairfield Scribes, Five Minute Lit, Microfiction Monday, and Rejection Letters. You can find her @slashnburnett, @slashnburnett.bsky.social, or emmaburnett.uk.
Favorite Drink: Pass me a White Russian any day, and let’s have a chat about whether Kahlúa has caffeine in it.
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image: MM Kaufman
Rejection Letters 